


Countess

by nerdyketones



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Bitterness, Bittersweet, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Death, Crime Fighting, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Roller Coaster, Eventual Relationships, Falling In Love, Family Loss, Fem!Ciel, Genderbending, Girls with Guns, Hatred, Injury, Murder, Mystery, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Relationship(s), Past Torture, Period-Typical Sexism, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Revenge, Self-Hatred, Teasing, Trust, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, societal pressure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2018-07-26 04:29:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 48,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7560142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdyketones/pseuds/nerdyketones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The tragedy and subsequent rise of a certain Countess Celine Phantomhive, eighteen, and her journey to achieve her revenge with the help of her demon butler, Sebastian. Not much has changed. Celine is still a proud, vain, Phantomhive heir...but she's mellowed from her bratty years. Her thirst for revenge is just as brutal as Ciel's.</p><p>--</p><p>“Many will resist the idea of me taking on my family’s work. It is not ‘proper’ for a lady of my nobility to be dealing with such things.” Celine turned to look at Sebastian. “However, if I am to find those who dared to hurt my family, I will need to be a prominent public figure, with resources. I must take on my family’s role.”</p><p> “And so it will be done, my Lady.” Sebastian said with a satisfied smirk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nothing Can Remain

**Author's Note:**

> A retelling of Ciel's story...but with a young lady. A friend suggested how badass if it would be if someone more like Asami from LOK was bound to Sebastian instead of Ciel...this is for you, Katie! xx

Celine Phantomhive could remember every second of the attack on her family’s manor. She could remember Tanaka, the man she called her Grandfather, locking her in her room to protect her. She could remember furiously picking the lock, then finally shouldering the door open enough to escape; Tanaka had pushed a bookshelf over the front, knowing full well that she could pick the lock.

The manor’s hallways were ablaze as she ran down them, checking every room, calling out for someone, anyone. When she went into the drawing room, her blood went cold. Every second that she stared at the corpse of her parents, haphazardly stitched together like some kind of Frankenstein’s Monster, was burned into her mind. She’d tried crossing the room to get to the body, to prove that what she was seeing wasn’t real, but the fire, at that point, was burning out of control. She barely made it out alive.

Her escape led to enslavement. The men who picked her up usually only abducted children for a sick, convoluted notion that they were summoning _demons_ with the child sacrifices, but a girl at the age of 18 couldn’t be ignored. Celine survived being branded, on her side, as if she were nothing but cattle. She could be stabbed or cut multiple times, for multiple ‘sacrifices’, without the wounds actually killing her. And, although she fought them bitterly, they could use her for sex. When she wasn’t wishing death upon every member of the cult, being used in their depravity, she tried her best to take care of the other children they’d kidnapped. They all called her ‘Mother’, simply because she let them sleep around her at night to keep them warm, she gave them as much of her food as she could without being caught, and she always offered herself for ‘sacrifice’ before the children could be grabbed, trying to save as many lives as possible. Sometimes, a ‘willing’ sacrifice was allowed. Sometimes, Celine screaming and cursing at them all the while, the group snatched a child instead.

When another child was being sacrificed, and the promise of more were on the way, she drew all the children around her, like frightened birds, and kept them close, made sure that they didn’t see it, even if they could hear the pained scream just a few feet away. The longer she spent in captivity, the more her soul burned with _hate._ That hatred kept her strong for the other children, gave her a little more energy to fight against being raped.

 

One night, the hatred in her soul served another purpose.

 

The cult held a grand ceremony, with their all of their members in attendance. She sat in the cold, iron cage with the other children, keeping them close to her, as the members merrily chatted, drank wine, and sampled rich foods. A few stopped by to peer into the cage, looking at the night’s sacrifices, and Celine would glare at them, holding as many children in her arms as possible. The kids knew what was coming, and they took turns crowding and nudging their way into her arms, trying to hide, trying to believe that if they stayed in ‘Mother’s’ arms, they would be spared from the horror that awaited them.

The ceremony tried summoning a demon time and time again. One by one, even though Celine fought and screamed and begged, every single child was pulled from her arms and sacrificed, brutally butchered as if they were animals. Finally, amongst laughter and snickers, Celine was pulled from the cage, dragged across the sticky, congealing blood on the floor. First, the usual man in a ceremonial mask raped her, with the assistance of two other men to hold her down. This, sadly, was nothing new, but the feeling of slowly drying blood on her back, the blood of the children she’d tried so desperately to save, nearly made Celine vomit. When the ceremony was done, and she’d shoved her ruined skirt back down, the sacrifice came.

“Oh powerful demon, accept the fertile body of this sacrifice! Come to us, and we shall grant you a soul in return!” A man proclaimed, and then a man was driving a knife directly through her hand, making her shriek out. New, fresh blood mixed with the congealing blood on the sacrificial altar. As she watched her own blood fall through eyes streaming with tears of pain, Celine could have choked on her hatred. Numb with shock and pain, she didn’t fight a man who dragged her back to the cold, iron cage, and didn’t sit up when he tossed her in.

Lying in a heap, Celine called on her hatred. It stopped her tears and worked to numb her pain. As long as she had her hatred, it didn’t matter that some vile man’s semen was drying on her legs, or that she was covered in not only her own blood, but the blood of children she tried and failed to protect. If she could feel that bittersweet hatred in her, she was still alive. She still had the chance to get her revenge. Embroiled in loathing, she found herself thinking, _Someone…anyone. Please. Help me._

It then took her a moment to realize that the cult was murmuring excitedly as the room began to rumble softly, darkness appearing in the corners. “Demon, grant me eternal life!” A portly man yelled.

“Give me all the riches in the world!” The man that had raped her called out. At the sound of heels clicking on stone, echoing even amongst the yelling of the cult, Celine pushed herself upright, using her stabbed hand to hold the still agonizing brand on her side. To her shock and, surprisingly, relief, the black mass was approaching _her._ The two blazing, wine colored eyes from inside the mass of black appraised her almost uncaringly, but a wicked looking tongue poked out from behind large, white fangs. A fluttering of feathers could be heard as the darkness retreated somewhat, revealing black feathers, black legs, and black stiletto shoes. For a moment, she wasn’t sure if she wanted the demon to kill her or save her. Then, her hatred came back, and she knew, deep in her heart, what she truly wanted.

Before she could stop herself, she had scooted over to the bars, and, in desperation, reached her skinny, dirtied arm out from between the bars, trying to reach the demon, to touch it. “Please, demon! Make a contract with me!” She called out, still straining to touch it, to make sure that she wasn’t hallucinating. “ _Please!_ I—I need-!”

“No! It’s going for the sacrifice! Someone shut her up!” A cult member yelled, but no one dared to approach. The demon, a now predatory smirk on its lips, took her pale, grasping hand in one large, black grip, uncaring of the blood that stained her skin.

“What do you desire, human?” A velvety baritone came out of the demon, as proper as an English gentleman. 

“I—I need power,” Celine said, her mind spinning with both pain and the hatred that had kept her strong for so long. “I need power stronger than anyone else’s. I need revenge!” 

“It is your choice whether or not to make a contract with me. The… _price_ to cross the river has already been paid.” The demon said, looking pointedly at the blood that soaked her clothes, at the still bleeding wound through her hand. He waited, eyes flaring, for her answer.

“Yes, I agree— I wish to make a contract with you.” Celine gasped, especially when the demon suddenly was so much closer, right next to the bars, gripping her hand tight enough to hurt. There was no escape, not now. Whatever the contract would bring, it didn’t matter. She _would_ get her revenge. 

“I must place a seal upon your body to validate the contract. The more visible it is, the more powerful the contract becomes. Where shall I put it?” The demon asked, looking both amused and pleased at her desperation. 

“W-Wherever you think is best. I need _power.”_ Celine nearly snarled the word, anticipation at bringing pain to all those who had hurt her and her family adding to her hatred. 

“For such a tiny human you are extremely greedy. Very well. I shall put it on that eye of yours, filled with despair.” The demon said carelessly, reaching abruptly into the cage, covering her left eye and the left side of her face with his hand. In an instant, she felt pain stronger than any she’d ever felt flash through her eye, and she screamed at the agony. By the time he let go, she could feel blood pooling up and dripping from underneath her closed, left eye. When a cold shiver passed through her, she suddenly _knew_ that the contract was sealed. Upon opening her eye, the demon looked at her with satisfaction, cementing her belief that she was now in a contract with a demon. “We are now contracted. What is your first order, my Lady?” The dark mass asked, eyes flaring at the prospect.

“Kill every person in this room. Make them suffer. But bring _that one_ to me.” Celine ordered, pointing out the man in the ceremonial mask who had raped her. 

She sat in a type of weary satisfaction in her cage, pressing harder against her brand with her stabbed hand, trying to slow the bleeding, as she watched the beast she’d leashed to herself do exactly as she’d ordered- he slashed throats, ripped bodies in half, and snapped necks. By the time he was done, the one man was cowering as the demon approached, lifting him by the scruff of his suit and carrying him over, standing calmly in front of the cage. “P-please. You’re a lady; you're nobility! Spare me!” The man begged, and Celine’s eyes flashed.

“I like it when you beg. _Do it again.”_ She ordered, tone as cold as ice.

“Please, my Lady, please, spare me! I only did as the Order required me! P-please, show mercy!” The man begged, tears sparking in his eyes. 

“Demon, please break that man’s leg.” Celine asked flatly. Without hesitation, the demon reached down and jerked the man’s left leg up at an unnatural angle, the _snap_ masked by the man’s howl of agony. “Do you remember how I’ve begged you, over the past few months? How I pleaded and wept and screamed for you to stop?” Celine asked the man sharply, her hate making her vision sharp, her body strong. Her free, unwounded hand gripped the iron bars of her cage tightly, until her knuckles turned white. “Do you remember that?”

“ _Please, please-!”_ The man was spluttering, gripping his broken leg, gasping for breath.

“Do you remember every time you raped me? How you enjoyed it? How you pulled every terrified, innocent child out of my hands and slaughtered them? How you _laughed_ at their screams? Don’t tell me you have a short memory.” Celine hissed. “Demon, please break his other leg.”

“Yes, my Lady.” The demon purred, sounding delighted at the continued violence. He did as requested, enjoying not only the pathetic scream of the man, but the vicious, hate-filled satisfaction of his new Mistress. Her soul was developing wonderfully, right before his very eyes. This was only a small step towards total revenge, total satisfaction, but seeing a Mistress who was as wounded as she was merciless excited him. The path to her revenge would be bloody, just as he liked it. 

“When I begged you for mercy, when those children asked to be spared, you laughed. You ignored us; and now here you are, begging for mercy. You are asking to be spared.” Celine’s voice was terrible, and the man in the demon’s grip began to openly sob. “Demon, please take him to the altar and slit his throat.” She decided. Smirking at her request, the demon did as she asked, leaving the body to continue to bleed, adding to the pool of blood he stepped through. 

“Quite an interesting start, my noble Lady. If I am to serve you properly, I should be the perfect butler.” He told her. As he walked back over to the cage, the darkness faded, the feathers disappeared into a black tailcoat, and then a perfect, prim butler was standing in front of the cage, a blank, polite look on his face. The demon was tall, with fringed, dark hair, flawless skin, and devastatingly handsome features. He offered her a short bow, smirking. “A Lady shouldn’t have to sit in a cage. Allow me to assist you.” He then gripped two of the bars with stark-white gloved hands, and ripped them apart as if they were butter, leaving a large hole. He then offered her a hand.

Celine stared up at him for a moment, the pain of her injuries dulling her mind. Her body was already so weary- she was starved, weakened, and wounded. Still, gaping was not proper behavior for a lady. She gave him her hand, and he helped her stand, gripping her other elbow when she stumbled on weak knees before catching her balance. The chuckle he let out smarted at her sense of pride, and she lifted her chin to send him a cool expression. “Was there something that amused you?” She asked, and the demon smirked before reassembling his polite facade.

“No, my Lady.” He said, offering her a dramatic bow, falling to one knee with far too much grace, pressing one, now slightly bloodied glove to his chest. The overly solemn promise made her frown, before turning and heading for the altar. The congealing blood pool lapped at her feet, washing over her toes and sticking to the soles of her feet. The blood, her failure, had made her nauseous before. Now that she had the promise of revenge, however, she was indifferent to the blood- the only gore she’e be seeing now was the lifeblood of her enemies spilling out in the dirt.  She stopped at the altar, and, even with one hand, managed to shove the corpse of her rapist off of the blood-soaked altar cloth. She felt the rich silk, once white, now red, and traced a finger over the symbol embroidered into it. The logo that matched the brand on her side was stitched into the silk with fine, gold thread, the gold marred by the blood of the innocent. Making a snap-second decision, Celine pulled the altar cloth off of the pedestal and draped it over her shoulder. It would act as her reminder of what she’d suffered, even though she knew she could never forget the horrors she’d seen. 

“Demon, please burn this place to the ground. Nothing can remain.” She told the smartly dressed butler as she walked slowly past him, heading for the exit. Her pride wouldn’t allow her to limp, which would hurt less than walking. She was going to leave this place with at least some of her dignity intact, her own pain be damned. 

“As you wish.” The demon said behind her, but she didn’t look back. She left bloody footprints through the stone hallways, and then in the dirt path outside the temple. She watched it burn, indifferent to the demon exiting the burning building and standing beside her, ready for his next task. “The man you had me kill last said that you are of nobility, my Lady. Pray, what is your title?” The demon asked politely, and she pulled her eyes from the flames to look at him. 

“I am Countess Celine Phantomhive.” She told him, and he offered her a short bow. “What is your name, demon?”

“You may call me whatever you wish.” The demon responded with a polite smile. 

“I asked if you had a name, not if I could name you.” Celine said tiredly, going back to watching the flames. Windows shattered from the heat, and the crackling inferno, after months of being in cold darkness, felt wonderful. She was half tempted to walk back into the building and burn with everything else. 

“I have been known by many names. It is custom that I am given a new name for every contract I make.” The demon told her, and Celine closed her eyes. If he insisted on being stubborn, she had to be stubborn back, even if it was childish. 

“Then you are Sebastian.” She named him, and she could practically feel his too-polite smile that hid smugness at bending her to his will. 

“Was that your former butler’s name?” He enquired, and she couldn’t hold back a laugh that morphed into a wince, gripping her side. Laughing had aggravated the wound that had become infected and inflamed. She couldn’t even distinguish the symbol that had been branded into her skin anymore.

“No. Sebastian was my dog’s name.” She told his too perfect face. To her inner, childish delight, she saw his eyes narrow just a fraction before he hid it with a bland smile.

“Well, Countess, shall we return to your estate?” he suggested. Celine frowned, looking around her. She had been transported a great distance, for none of the surrounding countryside looked familiar. 

“Even if it hadn’t been burned to the ground, I was kidnapped. I have no idea where we currently are.” Celine took a moment to bow her head, to grip her side tighter, inducing some pain in order to keep herself focused. In the past few months, pain had become fuel, the only thing she trusted herself to feel. “I have a relative at the Royal Hospital, in London. Could you take me there?”

“One does not have to ask a servant, only order them.” Sebastian responded, and she lifted her head to take in the smirk on the edge of his lip, the glint to his eye that was somehow always wicked. He would push her buttons just as much as she would his, it would seem.

“Before we depart, I have three orders for you, then.” She made up her mind, and the demon cocked his head to show that he was listening. “You will help me get my revenge against all who wronged my family. You will never lose your loyalty to me, and you may never lie to me. Is that understood?”

“Perfectly, my Lady.” Sebastian said lowly, offering her another bow. 

“In that case, this is an order. Take me to Royal Hospital in London.” 

 The demon carried her there effortlessly, at a speed that both impressed and scared Celine. When they arrived, Celine insisted that she could walk, as proud as ever. She didn’t want anyone to see her in such a state, even though she had the feeling that no one would look at the dirty, thin, blood-soaked young woman and even recognize her. She had ripped a piece of fabric from her skirt to tie around her face, keeping her marked left-eye out of sight. It was a convincing disguise. “My god! Are you alright?!” The nurse gasped as Celine stepped up to the counter, her ridiculously prim butler behind her. Even with the few bloodstains on his suit coat, he still looked proper. 

“I have a relative here, a Dr. Angelina Dalles. Is she in?” Celine asked, thinking of her Aunt. 

“I—yes. I will send for her right away. Miss, are you sure that you are alright?” The nurse asked, looking horrified at the state of the young woman before her. Before Celine could answer, she heard an older gentleman cry out in shock, making her turn.

There, much to her delight and pain, was Tanaka. He had fallen from a wheelchair and onto his knees, one hand outstretched towards her, disbelief and joy and sadness written all over his face. Before she even knew what was happening, she’d brushed past Sebastian and stumbled into Tanaka’s arms, the cry of, “Grandpa!” slipping out of her before she could stop it. 

“My Lady…Celine…what happened to you?” Tanaka asked, pulling back and taking her chin lightly, examining her bruised and bloodied face. 

“ _Celine?!”_ She heard her Aunt cry out, and then she was being hugged by Madam Red as well, the smell of her perfume masking the stench of blood. “Celine, my god! Come with me at once. _Nurse!”_ Angelina barked at the nearest available nurse, who retrieved a wheelchair at lightning speed. “Look at you—I—!” Her Aunt spluttered, looking over the blood and the rag over her eye. “Come. I’ll see to you myself.”

“Sebastian, stay with Tanaka. I’m sure he can answer many of your questions. Tanaka— I’ll be back.” Celine offered him a weak smile before Angelina pushed her away, abuzz with questions. Celine avoided most of them, citing injury most of the time as a reason why she couldn’t answer.  She waved off Madam Red’s attempt to see her eye, but allowed her to clean and bandage her hand and many of the cuts and abrasions she’d gathered from fighting. Celine did not inform her of the infected brand on her side- it was her secret, and would require a long stay in the hospital to be taken care of when all she wanted was to go home.

“Aunt—I—wait.” Celine said before she could leave her room. “I know that asking this will hurt you dearly, even make you hate me, but I have to.”

“Oh, my dear! I could never hate you. What is it?” Her Aunt asked, instantly coming back over and cupping her cheek. She’d given Celine a proper eyepatch for her eye, and so she could see more of her niece’s expression. Seeing her look so distraught when she’d already suffered so much made her stomach twist.

“I—where I was, I was taken advantage of. Repeatedly. I was forced to.” Celine made herself say the words, glaring at the ground instead of her Aunt. “I cannot carry the baby of my attacker. You  have already lost so much, and want a child so badly, but I cannot let this baby survive.” She shivered at the thought of losing her ability to ever have children _ever,_ and at the expression of hurt and longing and hatred that briefly passed over her Aunt’s face.

“I-I understand, Celine. I do. Can I look?” She asked very quietly, and Celine hesitated before sitting back on the exam table and lifting her blood-stained skirts. Her aunt visibly paled at the sight of dried semen and the obvious signs of a violent rape, but she was gentle, and methodical. Finally, she sat back.

“Well? Am I with child or not? If I am, I will not carry it.” Celine said sharply, flatly, fisting the silk altar-cloth tightly to control her tone. The cloth was her shield, her reminder. 

“No. Wherever you’ve been, whatever has happened to you has left your body too weak to be with a child. You probably didn’t even bleed monthly, did you?” Angelina asked quietly, and Celine nearly wept with relief.

“No. I haven’t. Are you sure, Aunt, that I cannot be impregnated from that—from that _beast?”_ Celine asked, and Angelina gave her a sad smile, lowering her niece’s skirt. 

“You are not pregnant, Celine. Until your body recovers enough to continue monthly bleeding, you will not be able to carry a child.” Angelina told her, and then flinched a bit in surprise when her niece hugged her tightly. “It’s alright.” She reassured her, feeling the brief wetness of tears on her neck.

“ _Thank you._ Some day I might want children, and I want to have children so that they can experience your love. Thank you, Madam. Thank you.” Celine said, pulling back and delicately wiping tears off her cheeks from around eyepatch strings and gauze taped to her other cheek, covering a gash. 

“You’re welcome, Celine. Now, why don’t I book you for the night, and—,” Madam Red started, standing up and helping Celine off the table.

“No. I’m returning to the manor.” Celine insisted. 

“What?! Celine, don’t be ridiculous. With your injuries, you need continued care and _rest._ The manor is still— is still in ruins. It hasn’t been touched since the fire. There is nothing there.” Angelina told her lowly, shadowing her niece as she continued to head for the door.

“I don’t care. I need to see it. _Sebastian!”_ Celine flinched at the sight of her butler waiting in the hallway when she opened the door. She thought for sure that Tanaka would have kept him talking with stories of her family and what had happened at the manor long after she’d finished with Madam Red. By the hint of a frown at the pull of his lip, she knew that he’d heard everything. Before she could stop herself, she felt color leeching from her cheeks. She was afraid that Sebastian, if he thought that she was pregnant, weakened by some vile man’s child, would break the contract and leave her. Without the promise of revenge, she felt empty. Dead.

“My Lady. Mr. Tanaka needed to retire due to his wounds. Will you be doing the same?” He asked politely. His gaze flicked once to her torso, where a baby could have grown, before his gaze returned to her face. 

“Celine, who _is_ this?” Madam Red asked by her side, looking at the handsome black butler with a mix of distrust and interest. 

“Aunt, this is my butler, Sebastian. Sebastian, this is my Aunt, Madam Red.” Celine introduced very quietly, not looking at either of them. 

“Madam. It is an honor,” Sebastian said humbly, bowing to her as if she were the Queen. 

“Your butler? Tanaka is your family’s steward. What do you need a butler for?” Angelina asked distrustfully, placing a hand on Celine’s shoulder. Celine bit the inside of her cheek, banishing her fears about Sebastian leaving because of her unwanted pregnancy. The demon was clearly curious and unhappy about the idea, but he hadn’t left. Yet.

“I wasn’t aware that anyone survived the attack on the manor. If I was going to return, I was going to need a suitable butler.” Celine pointed out, lifting her chin and wishing some color back into her cheeks. Even if he wasn’t a demon, she’d made it obvious that she was shocked to see him, which made her look incredibly guilty. She’d been taught to be a better actress than that- if she was returning for her revenge, she needed to hone every skill she’d ever been taught- starting with acting. “And no, Sebastian. We are leaving for my family’s manor.” She added, starting down the hallway.

“For goodness sake, Celine, listen to me. As your Aunt and Doctor, you need rest. What are you going to do, sleep in the ruins?” Angelina said exasperatedly, following her niece.

“No.” Celine said simply, stopping at Tanaka’s door and ducking inside. She gave him a kiss on the cheek, wished him well, and told him that she’d send news of her family’s estate as soon as she had any. “Aunt, I am going, and that is final.” Celine told her as she came back into the hallway. She refused to stay in the hospital with her Aunt’s constant questions. 

“Alright, fine. But take this. An officer found it in the ashes and gave it to me. If you look carefully enough, you may be able to find the blue-diamond ring your father used to wear.” Angelina pressed the Phantomhive family crest ring into her niece’s bandaged palm, gently wrapping her fingers around it. “I’ll have the nurses call you a hansom.”

“Thank you,” Celine said softly, kissing her Aunt on the cheek. “Come on, Sebastian.” She bid, slipping the too-large ring on one of her thin fingers, walking away. After a moment, she heard him fall in behind her. He helped her into the carriage with all the grace of an Englishman, and then ducked in, sitting opposite her. “Can I assume that you were able to hear my conversation with my Aunt?” She asked one the carriage started moving.

“Indeed. You will find that a demon has hearing better than that of a mortal.” Sebastian answered, the hint of a frown pulling at his lip again. “You did not wish for me to hear it?”

“The only thing that gives me hope in this world is the promise that one day, I can cause equal suffering in those that killed my family and tarnished my name and body.” Celine said, glaring out the window of the carriage. “Being _pregnant_ ,” She spat the word, “would put that promise in jeopardy.” 

“Your fear for the strength of the contract is unnecessary, my Lady. I will remain by your side until the end.” Sebastian promised, his eyes briefly flaring in the slightly dark interior of the carriage. “Also, your health and safety for the duration of this contract is my primary concern. If I would need to make preparations for such a scenario, being told in advance would be most helpful.” 

“As if you wouldn’t be able to tell on your own.” Celine said bitterly, crossing her arms. “Even if you couldn’t, my body would eventually show it.” 

“I would never presume that my Lady was with child unless told so. It would be quite rude for me to do so if not prompted.” Sebastian deflected mildly. Their carriage hit a rut, and her elbow dug briefly into her branded side, sending a flare of pain down her side. Celine reveled in it, as the discomfort kept her from picking a childish fight with her new demon butler. 

“Was Tanaka able to give you adequate information on my family’s history?” Celine asked him, changing the subject, adjusting her arm to ease the pain in her side. Her demon’s eyes followed the movement, all knowing. 

“Indeed. The house of Phantomhive has long served the Queen, investigating cases that she would trust no one else with. The title of ‘The Queen’s Watchdog’ has always fallen to the male heirs of the family. Now, pending your ability, it will fall to you.” The demon quirked an eyebrow, almost in challenge. 

“Yes. My Father was very good at serving the Queen.” Celine felt herself smirk a bit at the passing countryside, no matter how weary she was. Vincent Phantomhive’s ability to serve the Queen had meant that the manor saw it’s fair share of enemies. She could remember watching Tanaka slaughter a troop of intruders on their estate from her balcony when she was only seven. Before, she’d gotten glimpses of the Underworld, and had snooped about on her own. While her Mother taught her how to be a perfect, intelligent lady, her Father taught her about business, bribery, and thievery. When she wasn’t learning how to flirt, compliment, and manipulate her way to whatever she wanted from her mother, Celine was learning how to pick a lock, and how to defend herself from her father. She still had much to learn, and her parents had discussed such with her, but then…then they were gone. Hatred made her mouth taste bitter, and so she banished those thoughts with a frown at the countryside. “Many will resist the idea of me taking on my family’s work. It is not ‘proper’ for a lady of my nobility to be dealing with such things.” She turned to look at Sebastian. “However, if I am to find those who dared to hurt my family, I will need to be a prominent public figure, with resources. I must take on my family’s role.”

 

“And so it will be done, my Lady.” Sebastian said with a satisfied smirk.


	2. Testing the Waters

_“And so it will be done, my Lady.” Sebastian said with a satisfied smirk._

_[][][][][][]_

They spent the rest of the ride in silence. When they arrived, Celine stared at the charred ruins of her home, face expressionless. She’d never thought that she would live to see it again. Now that she was, she felt faintly sick at the memory of running into the drawing room, the walls and floor ablaze, only to find the corpse of her parents, stitched into one entity. Their mismatched eyes still stared at her from the darkness of her mind, blank and empty. Turning on her heel, Celine walked away from Sebastian and a little ways across the estate. Passing through a black, wrought iron gate, she walked steadily into the Phantomhive Family graveyard, past the numerous headstones that were weathered with age. When the footsteps of her demon following in the grass reached her ears, she ignored him. 

At last, she stopped at three, blinding white marble headstones. The first, which she looked at blankly, was her own. 

‘CELINE RACHEL PHANTOMHIVE’

The carefully, elegantly etched letters stared back at her, telling her of her undeniable fate. “If achieving my revenge was an easy thing to do, I would tell you to leave this headstone here, out of convenience for my Aunt, who will have to bury me yet again.” Celine said quietly, staring at the white marble until it was burning into her eye. “However, this will not be so simple. It cannot remain next to the markers for my Father and Mother. The headstone must be removed.” She knelt slowly in the soft grass, reaching her hands out. One hand touched the corner of her Father’s grave, the other on her Mother’s. 

“Of course. I will see to it when you are finished here.” Sebastian said courteously from behind her. After a minute, he left, leaving her in peace with the empty graves of her parents. The fire would have destroyed everything; Celine was surprised that even the ring bearing her family’s crest had survived. Unable to let go of the memories of her life before, how simple and easy it had been, made Celine stay in the grass as the sun set and dusk spread over the land. It as only then that the sound of footsteps in the grass returned.

“My Lady, staying out in the night air, especially with your injuries, would be hazardous to your health.” Sebastian noted calmly.

“There is an inn nearby, maybe twenty miles or so. We can secure a place to stay there for the night.” Celine said wearily, getting to her feet and absentmindedly brushing grass from her ruined skirt. 

“There will be no need for that. If you’d kindly follow me.” Sebastian said with a knowing smirk. As he lead her around to the front of the manor, Celine heard herself gasp in shock. The manor was completely restored; it was as if the fire had never happened at all. She had been born and raised at the estate, and yet even she couldn’t detect any differences between the building she used to call home and the replica before her now. “My Lady, you are a Countess! I couldn’t allow my Mistress to live in squalor. Come, and enjoy your new estate.” Sebastian continued, opening one of the grand, entry doors and welcoming her inside. 

In awe, Celine silently followed him in, eyes wide, as she took in the front entry. The sight of the giant portrait of her family over the stairs made her balk for a moment, her footsteps faltering briefly. How the demon had managed to replicate _that,_ of all things, both saddened and impressed her. Sebastian, her faithful friend, was lying by her feet, tongue lolling out. Celine was seated, with her parents on either side of her, standing. Her father had a hand on her shoulder, the blue-diamond of his ring drawing attention to the sapphire blue eyes she had inherited from her mother. Rachel Phantomhive had an arm around her husband, and smiled with such beauty and _happiness_ that it broke Celine’s heart. 

“My Lady? You are shivering, and are still covered in blood. Shall I draw you a bath?” Sebastian’s voice shattered her moment, and she looked down from the painting, frowning. 

“Please.” Celine requested. It felt so _wrong_ to be walking in her own house, in such luxury, after all that had happened to her. It felt wrong that her parents were not there with her, or any of the old servants. Not even Tanaka was there. Still, she carefully made her way to the bathroom, and, even in her tiredness, raised an eyebrow when Sebastian offered to help her undress.

“It may be highly improper, but you have many wounds that require attention and cleaning, my Lady.” Sebastian said humbly. “If it pleases you, I will wear a blindfold.”

“I have been so thoroughly used and disgraced that this body hardly matters to me anymore. I care not for ‘decorum’ or ‘propriety’. It will be quicker and easier for both of us to simply take care of this.” Celine decided. She carefully slipped off the altar cloth from her shoulder and placed it on the bathroom sink. “I’d like that altar cloth washed and returned to me.” 

“Of course, my Lady.” Sebastian agreed politely, undoing the laces of her dress. Her corset had been long since abandoned, since wearing one over the brand would be agonizing. Besides, she’d tried to make a shiv out of the steel boning one of the first nights of her confinement. Careful fingers plucked at the laces of her eyepatch, gently tugging it off. Celine made sure to pull off the gauze bandage on her cheek herself. Less than a year ago, she would have fought tooth and nail to never appear naked before a man that wasn’t her husband. Now, she felt no shame or embarrassment as Sebastian helped her step into the lukewarm tub.

“Sebastian,” Celine warned before the demon could pour the entire bucket of water he’d boiled into the tub. “You can’t pour that in all at once; you’ll burn me.” She briefly wondered if hurting her had been his intention, but the brief flash of surprise on his face dismissed the idea.

“I—my apologies, my Lady.” Sebastian said, adding in only a fourth of the bucket. The heat seeping into her tired joints nearly made her cry- it felt so good. 

“Have you never prepared a bath before?” Celine asked, watching the dried blood and filth on her skin dissolving into the water, turning it brown. When Sebastian didn’t answer, she looked up. “I do not mean to insult you- if you are going to be my butler, you must be given the tools to become qualified. I will tolerate questions, but not failure.” She told him, thinking of when her Father and Mother had told her the same thing, repeatedly. They praised her for questioning, for learning. It was her fault, they’d always said, if she failed from lack of knowledge. 

“How gracious of you, my Lady.” Sebastian said, adding in the next fourth of the bucket, sticking in a finger with a bland expression. “Yes, I have never prepared a bath before. My sense of temperature is different from that of a human.”

“Then I suppose I’ll have to teach you.” Celine said, picking up the bottle of fragrant scrub that had magically appeared along with most of the house. She measured in her un-injured hand, as she’d watched her maids do a thousand times, before adding it to the water and swirling it around. When Sebastian added the next fourth of the bucket, bubbles frothed up. “Ah,” Celine hissed as she started to ease more of her body into the water. The heat felt good on most of her body, but the sting of soap and heat against her inflamed brand and her stabbed hand nearly made her eject herself from the water. Her good hand clenched around the rim of the tub until her knuckles turned white.

“Allow me, my Lady.” Sebastian insisted, and so Celine gingerly moved her arm so that Sebastian could begin dabbing at the brand with lukewarm water and sure, gentle strokes. He seemed indifferent to the red, burned skin and the pus that began seeping out of the wound. 

When the brand was clean, the demon very gently scrubbed her hair and scalp, taking great care to keep any soap out of her eyes. He then had her get out of the tub; he insisted on changing the water, as it had turned reddish brown from her filthy body sitting in it. That time, he measured the soap into his own palm, taking care not to fill it, for his palm was much, much larger than that of his Mistress. She’d given him a tired yet honest nod of approval when he silently raised the amount in his hand for inspection, hesitant to add it if he had too much or too little. 

He then produced another clean cloth and began washing her, starting carefully with her hands and fingers, taking the time to get each speck of dirt out from underneath her fingernails. He then moved up her arms, down her shoulders, and the expanse of her back, which was still coated with the blood of the previous sacrifices. Through it all, Celine was silent, staring blankly at the soapy water with empty, haunted eyes. However, when the cloth moved back up her shoulder and down between her breasts, she stiffened, abruptly pulled out of her thoughts. “Did I hurt you, my Lady?” Sebastian asked, tone perfectly polite, but the glint to his eyes, was, as always, somewhat wicked. The close proximity, the steam of the bathroom, and the teasing look to his eye, instead of making her feel attraction, as she normally would have before her ordeal, made her feel cornered and prey-like instead.

When the cloth slid lower, heading for below her belly-button, she caught his wrist so fast that she nearly yanked him into the tub on accident. “I can wash there myself, Sebastian.” Celine barely felt herself say the words, heart thundering in her chest at her last memory of being touched there. Sebastian arched one perfect eyebrow, smirk more wicked than usual, as he passed her the cloth.

“I shall prepare your dinner then, Mistress, while you finish here.” He said, pulling off his soaked gloves with his teeth in a manner that was far too suggestive to be normal. She briefly thought of him doing the same thing before having his ‘dinner’, her soul, and almost shuddered. 

“No thank you. I am not hungry.” She said, and he frowned lightly, the closest a polite butler could get to an outright scowl.

“Your body is starved, my Lady, and needs food. To refuse would be-,”

“Sebastian, you have pushed my limits enough tonight.” Celine interrupted with the light, yet commanding tone her Mother had taught her so well. It was polite and airy, like a proper lady should be, and yet carried a note of steel that was unquestionable. She met his unhappy gaze with a flinty look, daring him to argue. Sensing defeat, he gave a slightly irritated sigh, offered her a bow, and left. 

After her bath, Sebastian reapplied bandages and helped her don a nightgown of the softest silk. As he disappeared off to who knew where, most likely still irritated that she had refused dinner, Celine sat on the edge of the bed instead of getting in. She was exhausted, but somehow, crawling into such a luxurious, four poster bed after she’d been sleeping in cages for months felt wrong. The mattress was just the right firmness, and the blankets were soft and warm, but she couldn’t bring herself to climb inside the bed. 

“My Lady, I have brought you some warm milk.” The sight of her new butler pushing in a trolley that had a kettle of warm milk and a jar of honey made Celine break out in laughter, but it was a weary, sad type of laugh that quickly dissolved into a light hiss at her aggravated wound. If only she could have given all of those children a comfortable house, a warm bath, a safe place to sleep, and a cup of warm milk to send them off to pleasant dreams. She didn’t know what she wouldn’t give to have done that, but the promise of her revenge would have to be enough, as it would be their revenge too. “Have I offended you, my Lady?” Sebastian asked, head cocking to the side in confusion at her laughter. 

“No, no, I’m sorry. It smells wonderful.” Celine backtracked, accepting a cup with all of the daintiness a well-bred, English lady should. “It’s delicious.” She told the steamy, frothy cup, and Sebastian offered her a short bow in acceptance of the praise. “I cannot believe Tanaka told you this.” She added, picturing her faithful steward, relaxing unconsciously. Even when he was in pain, in a hospital, he only thought of her. As a child, whenever she’d been scared or anxious or even in a horrible mood (she’d been quite the brat when she was younger), he’d always served her a glass of warm milk with honey. 

“He made a point to mention this, yes. Something about providing the most comfort possible for my Lady during a difficult time.” Sebastian replied, and Celine smiled fondly at the thought of Tanaka lecturing a demon on how to provide a cup of warm milk at bedtime. Even if Tanaka wasn’t aware that Sebastian was a demon, if anyone could do such a thing, it would have been the elderly, Japanese man. 

“Tomorrow, I’ll need to see a hairdresser, hire a tailor, and I will need to begin preparations for myself to assume the role as the Queen’s Guard Dog. There is still much I need to learn, and I need to enhance skills I already have.” She said after another sip of the milk.

“Of course, my Lady. Shall I procure servants while you rest?” Sebastian asked.

“No, not yet. I am not ready for that yet, and neither are you.” Celine pointed out, finishing the milk. “Thank you for the milk, Sebastian.”

“But of course. If I couldn’t even do such a menial task, what kind of butler would I be?” The demon asked rhetorically, smirk fully in place, as he took the delicate china back. “Now then. I insist that you rest, my Lady.” Sebastian fluffed the pillows on her bed, raising an eyebrow almost imperceptibly when the exhausted young woman made no move to get in. “My Lady?” he prompted, and only then did she slide under the covers, frowning about something he didn’t understand. Sebastian preferred making contracts with men- usually they were duller intellectually, but they were easy to care for and embodied more of the qualities he preferred in the souls he preyed on. Never before had he met someone so complicated. “Goodnight, my Lady.” He wished blandly, blowing out the candles on the nightstand and taking his leave, wondering if making a contract with such a stubborn woman had been a good idea.

In the morning, instead of finding his contractee in bed, he found her curled up on the floor without a pillow or a blanket, sleeping restlessly. Her arms were dotted with gooseflesh, and her brow was puckered from whatever she was dreaming of. Sighing at such bizarre behavior, he gently prodded his Mistress awake. “Good morning, my Lady. May I ask why you took to sleeping on the floor?” He asked as the young woman sat up hastily, examining the room like a wary animal before focusing her attention on her ridiculously prim and polite butler. That eyes-closed, overly cheerful smile was quickly becoming a sign that her demon was either irritated, confused, or both. He offered her a hand up, and she took it.

“The bed, in any other circumstance, would have been perfection. However, I’ve recently become accustomed to sleeping in a cage, Sebastian. It was easier to fall asleep on the floor than it was in the bed.” Celine responded calmly, and internally, Sebastian smirked. The girl was already strong enough to put on her acting shoes, to banter back. He was dreading having to serve a weak-willed Mistress, and yet he shouldn’t have written her off so easily. After all, from the depraved conditions he’d seen, his Mistress had endured cruelty that rivaled that of a demon like himself, and yet her soul was stronger than ever. Most humans were too weak to handle such a situation and remain sane. “Oh!” Celine said, breaking him from his thoughts. Draped over his arm, restored to it’s former perfection, was the altar cloth. He’d returned it to it’s glowing white color, removed blood stains from the embroidered symbol, and had pressed the silk to perfection. 

“As requested, my Lady.” he said, presenting the cloth to her, which she took, running one delicate finger over the embroidery, expression masked. 

“I think I’d like this draped over my nightstand.” She decided, walking over and doing so herself, smoothing the cloth and arranging it just so. It looked innocent, just a beautiful, white silk table runner in a young Lady’s room. Only Sebastian and Celine would recognize the cloth for what it was- a reminder of brutal murders and unspeakable cruelty. “Now, have you called a hairdresser and a tailor?” Celine asked as Sebastian selected a dove-grey, tweed dress lined with chiffon from her armoire, and helped her into it. The corsets were ignored, as the brand had not yet healed. 

“The tailor, yes. Your previous tailor, a Miss Nina Hopkins, will be arriving in the late afternoon to take your measurements. However, I was unable to procure a proper hairdresser. If it is not presumptuous of me to offer, I would gladly fulfill the role for my Lady.” Sebastian said, affixing her heeled boots onto his Mistress’ thin, small feet with speed and grace. 

“You know how to cut hair?” Celine asked, somewhat warily. 

“I may be lacking more specialized skills as a butler, my Lady, but I have not lived this long for nothing. I am quite skilled at cutting hair. Styling it, however, may require some instruction.” Sebastian said honestly, with no trace of embarrassment of his inability present in his tone or features. 

“I see. Well then, I will trust you. Something must be done with this sad mop before Miss Hopkins arrives.” Celine said, pulling her hair over her shoulder. Before her confinement, she used to have long, flowing dark hair that was sleek and beautiful. Due to malnutrition and living in gore and filth, the strands were dull, some of the ends split and broken. She had the hair of a peasant, and that was a blow to her pride. 

“Before I take care of that, I insist that the Lady eat something for breakfast, seeing as you refused dinner last night.” Sebastian said with that overly polite smile once again as he affixed her eyepatch with deft fingers. Then, smirking, he withdrew a fine silver chain from his pocket and presented it to his Mistress, enjoying the shock that filled her features. During the night, he'd found the blue-diamond ring Madam Red had spoke of, and, seeing as it was much too big for his Mistress’ finger, had placed it on a chain along with the too-large ring of her family’s crest. 

“You found it— how did you find this?!” Celine asked, astonished, as the demon affixed it around her neck with care. 

“It was a simple task,” Sebastian said simply, opening the door for her. “Breakfast this morning is a lightly poached egg, fresh, buttermilk scones, and a blend of Assam tea.” To his delight, his new Mistress walked as if she were a Queen, regardless of the pain of lingering injuries. “The meal is light as to not aggravate your stomach.” 

“Very astute of you, Sebastian.” Celine said. She didn’t glance once at the portrait hanging above the main staircase, and although she briefly gripped the two rings hanging around her neck when they’d been placed there, she showed no outward signs of the crippling grief that tended to hang over humans when their loved ones died. It was refreshing. 

Breakfast was an interesting affair. Celine gently but sternly lectured Sebastian on how to make a proper cup of tea, citing that his attempt at a pot of Assam wasn’t tea, but ‘brown water’. After a few bites of the egg made Celine’s stomach, which was used to bread crusts, queasy, she switched to the biscuits instead. She then lectured Sebastian on producing the food from nowhere, ordering him to acquire the ingredients and make food by hand, or at least pretend to, less he raise suspicion when the manor had guests and servants. 

After breakfast, Sebastian set up a chair in the restored observatory, and draped a sheet around his Mistress’ shoulders in preparation to cut her hair. “What would you like, my Lady?” he requested, armed with several clips and a pair of very sharp scissors. His Mistress was frowning into a hand mirror, examining the limp, half-dead hair that fell well past her waist. As a demon, vanity was nothing new to him, and yet he found hers fascinating all the same. 

“I’d rather die than have short hair, but beggars cannot be choosers. I suppose taking off four inches or so may help improve the quality, and I will wear it braided back until it is healthy enough to properly style. Also, some fringe on the left side may help to cover up this eyepatch.” Celine said, frowning at the tacky white thing she’d gotten from the hospital. She would commission Nina to make her more fashionable ones straight away. Sebastian instantly set to work. When he was finished, Celine winced at the pile of hair on the ground, but couldn’t deny that her hair looked much better than it had before. A week of soft treatment and brushing, it would be as luxurious and thick as it had been before her confinement. “Now, for the braid.” Celine said, and when her demon hesitated, she couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow in disbelief. “You’ve lived for what has it been, hundreds of years, and you don’t know how to braid hair?”

“I am a man,” Sebastian said somewhat testily, “and so no, I have never learned how to braid a woman’s hair.” 

“Well then. Can you change your physical form at will?” She asked, and he frowned at her, getting wind of where she was going with her line of questioning. When all he did was nod, Celine stood, removing the sheet around her neck and handing the mirror to Sebastian. “Make your hair longer then. The best way to learn how to braid is to watch and feel it being done to yourself.” 

With a long-suffering sigh, Sebastian briefly became shrouded in darkness. When he re-emerged, his hair was as long as that of his Mistress, although his fringe remained. As per Celine’s gestured request, he sat in the chair, and held the mirror so that he could watch her work. Out of all of his lifetimes, never before had he had to work so hard to hold down an embarrassed flush. He was a _demon,_ a demon of _Hell,_ and yet here he was, having his hair braided by a mortal woman. The fact that the feeling of slim, trained fingers in his hair was pleasant only made his embarrassment worse.

“I will show you every type of braid I know, which, unfortunately for you, I know many. Hopefully you learn the first time, so that we do not have to do this again.” Celine said, picking up the clips. Nearly dying and watching children being slaughtered despite her best efforts had made her oddly immune to the strangeness of her situation. Braiding a man’s hair, almost a year ago, would have been a ludicrous story told at a dinner party, and yet now she was braiding a _demon’s_ hair because he’d never learned how. A few strokes with a brush later, and she was ready. “This is the most simplistic braid possible- all other designs are based off of this technique. Always start parting the hair at the crown…” She separated his hair into three, equal pieces, and began braiding it, lifting the finished plait for his inspection. Celine had very nimble fingers, and so braids came very simply and quickly to her. Two hours later, she had shown him a French braid, a Dutch braid, a six-part-plait, and had even braided his hair into a crown around his head. At first, he’d responded to instruction well, but she could see his relief when she announced that they were finished. “Now, the true test. I’d like a French-braid, please.” She requested, sitting back in the chair. 

Slightly hesitant fingers carded through her hair, starting at the crown, and produced the style, but it was too loose- her new fringe was already falling out by the time he’d reached the end. “Start over, now that you know what you are doing.” Celine said, and the demon complied. His second attempt was tight but not painful, and took him less time than before. Braided back, her hair looked less unhealthy and more like that of a Lady. Celine examined the back of it with a mirror, nodding in approval of the perfectly symmetrical joining of her hair into one, smooth plait. Sebastian resumed his normal, short-haired form on his way to welcome in the tailor, hoping fervently that he’d never have to have his hair braided again.

 


	3. Edward Midford

_Sebastian resumed his normal, short-haired form on his way to welcome in the tailor, hoping fervently that he’d never have to have his hair braided again._

_[][][][][][][][]_

Nina Hopkins was…an interesting person. She’d clearly worked for the Phantomhive family for years, judging by the warm welcome the two women gave each other, but some of the styles she suggested were, in Sebastian’s opinion, inappropriate for a lady. Thankfully, his Lady had other plans in mind. “Nina, you know that I love you work. You faithfully and expertly dressed my Mother and I for years.” Celine began, holding still as Nina went from measuring her arm to her waist to sketching furiously. “However, I am soon to assume my Father’s previous role. I need _two_ different wardrobes.”

“Two? I would be delighted!” Nina nearly drooling from the mouth at the prospect.

“One wardrobe must be as feminine and elegant as possible. I want the first one to be the rival of any other Lady in England.” Celine instructed, and Nina beamed. “The second needs to be more to your current tastes. I need men’s suits fitted to my frame; the clothing must make me look masculine. Finally, I need a few pieces that appear to be dresses, but the skirts can be easily removed to reveal trousers underneath. And of course, in both collections, I require a few more…fancy eyepatches. I need flexibility, Nina, and I know that you can give it to me.” 

“It would be my _honor._ You are the true embodiment of the modern woman! You are both traditionally feminine and elegant, and yet you are also going places, doing things, and breaking boundaries!” Nina raved, lifting Celine off the floor with the force of her hug. “Of course. These collections will be unstoppable. However, I will need to come back for a few fittings. You are much thinner than the last time I fitted you for a gown, and something tells me you will soon recover your ravishing figure.” Nina frowned, poking at Celine’s too-thin waist with her pencil. 

“You put that quite delicately, Nina. Thank you. Yes, simply contact my butler, Sebastian, when you require a fitting, and we will welcome you with open arms.”

[][][][][][][][]

Although it took time, Celine stopped sleeping on the floor, and grew accustomed to the down bed Sebastian had provided. At first, she insisted on no blankets at all, unable to shake the coldness that had invaded so many months of her life. However, she slowly added a sheet, and then a blanket, and then two.

Some nights were good nights.

His Mistress slept deeply, exhausted by the day’s activities of studying languages, mastering horseback riding in side-saddle and normal positions, on reorganizing her family’s company. Other nights, despite her exhaustion, the nightmares would come. Sebastian could hear her scream out from clear across the manor from her dreams, which made it difficult to tell if the numerous enemies that came onto the Estate grounds at night had managed to make it to her room, or if she was just dreaming.

The most common theme of her dreams was guilt. The Lady Celine would scream and cry and _beg_ whoever was haunting her mind to spare the children Sebastian had only seen corpses of. It was clear that Celine blamed her weakness for her inability to save innocent souls from a grisly, wasteful end. Mornings after her dreams, she would be either usually quiet or unusually mean. Even though she was nobility, Celine Phantomhive was oddly…caring. She made orders like requests, and often used the words ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ when asking for something. At first, Sebastian found it unbecoming for a Lady of her stature, but after a while…it was oddly nice. He’d served the most disgusting specimens that humanity had to offer. He’d been a lover, an assassin, a messenger, and _expendable._ Previous Masters had ‘tortured’ him for fun, burning and whipping and shooting him in an attempt to get a reaction. Celine, in contrast, had very rarely raised her voice, had impeccable manners, even when talking to servants, and, despite the hatred that twisted her soul, kept the sunny, beautiful outlook of an English lady with what seemed like no effort. When her kindness was soiled by the lingering memories of nightmares, it made the day far less pleasant.

Therefore, every time Celine screamed out either in pain or anguish or frustration from across the manor, Sebastian would always appear with a candelabra, a glass of warm milk with honey, and would stay, even if she hadn’t asked him to, until she fell back asleep. On the most horrid of nights, Celine would be unable to fall back asleep. In that case, she took to draping the altar cloth around her shoulders and going for walks in the garden. On those nights, Sebastian gave her space, watching and protecting from afar. 

[][][][][][][][]

Celine leaned against a garden railing, frowning down at her book. She was supposed to be reading an essay in Portuguese and writing an analysis of the diction used by the author, to be graded by Sebastian, but she found that she couldn’t focus on the words. The essay was about the dangers of the deadly sin Sloth, which Celine no opinion on other than disgust. She was more fascinated by the irony of Sebastian, a demon, choosing such an essay on sins than the topic itself. She was half tempted to pester him with questions about all of the lives he had lived when she heard a man’s voice call out across the garden.

“ _Celine?!”_

She knew that voice. Before the tragedy, she had been betrothed to her cousin, Edward Midford. She and Edward had known each other since birth, and were a good fit. Celine was both slightly dangerous, thanks to her father’s affiliations, and the epitome of grace. Edward came from the legendary family of knights, was an expert swordsman (which he had taught to Celine), and shared Celine’s love for reading. They’d been an intelligent, well-matched pair, destined to do great things. The night of the tragedy had been Celine’s 18th birthday, which had marked the beginning of her wedding preparations.

“Edward? What are you doing here?” Celine managed to ask as he practically ran across the path from the manor to the railing and hugged her tight, briefly lifting her off the ground. Sebastian hadn’t told her of any planned arrivals, and it was not like him to not introduce any unplanned visitors. The sight of Edward, another reminder of the happiness she could have had, made her stomach clench. She still loved Edward so deeply, but the idea of marrying him now, after everything that had happened, after the secret of her demon-butler, made her hesitate. She didn’t want to drag him in to the dark fate that awaited her, and if he knew of it, he would insist on marching into Hell by her side. She didn’t want that for him.

“God, look at you. Celine, _god,_ I am so glad you are alright.” Edward pulled back briefly, cupping her still quite thin cheek, before embracing her again. “What on Earth happened to you? I asked Aunt Red, but she couldn’t tell me anything.”

“There’s not much to tell, Edward. I can’t remember most of it.” Celine continued the lie she’d told everyone, and, much to her panic, she could see that Edward, who may have been the only person that could tell if she was lying, frowned at her. 

“Celine, I know that you remember. I can see how much whatever happened has changed you. You used to be like a star; you were so brilliant it was stunning. Now? Now your spark is gone.” He said with a soft, sad type of rage. Celine felt her chin lift, a defensive gesture.

“You know that I would trust you with _anything,_ Edward. When I say that I cannot remember half of what occurred, I mean it.” Celine said, and her Edward, her lovely, smart Edward, lifted his chin too. They were so similar that it hurt, sometimes.

“What about the other half, then? Your reputation needs avenging, Celine, and I’ll be more than glad to take up my sword in your name.” Edward swore.

“I’ve got that handled, I assure you.” The voice that came out of Celine was as promising as it was dark, and it stunned Edward speechless. The look in her eye, that fierce, angry, destructive look, promised violence that Edward never could have associated with Celine before. 

“Edward? There you are! The butler said you might be out here. Oh, this must be Celine!” A woman’s voice, bright and happy, floated over to them. Crossing the path, heading towards them, was a beautiful young woman. Her red hair was styled up in the latest fashion, and green, sparkling eyes smiled warmly at Celine. 

“Celine, this is Samantha Jameson. My wife.” Edward said very quietly, and for a moment, Celine was sure that all of the air in the world had been sucked out of existence. It made sense, the more logical part of her mind supposed. Celine had been ‘dead’ for almost a year, and Edward was of marrying age. Considering his standing, the social pressures on him to marry, even during a mourning period, must have been immense. Then, hatred, jealousy, and a sadness so bitter that she nearly choked crashed down on her, and it took all of her effort to offer Samantha Jameson a smile and a low curtsy.

“Oh, no, please! I am on your property, and I am so honored to meet you, Celine. Edward told me so much about you, and I extend to you my deepest condolences.” Samantha insisted, mirroring Celine’s curtsy. To Celine’s fury and despair, she could see the honesty in every move Samantha made, and to the bottom of her tone. Samantha was still a pure, beautiful person- she was the same person Celine had been before her life had been destroyed. As wrong as it was for Celine to think in such a way, she felt replaced.

“Oh dear! I know nothing about you in return! We will have to meet for tea.” Celine said, refusing to look at Edward. The slightly hurt, slightly pleading expression he was sending her way nearly broke her- he still loved her, that much was certain, but he felt guilty. It was clear that he loved Samantha deeply, and that she made him happy, but her presence, their marriage, now that Celine wasn’t dead, was like a slap to the face. It would surely cause an incredible amount of ugly, not entirely false gossip.

“You would honor me so? I cannot tell you how happy that makes me. To meet for tea with someone of your standing and class is extremely kind of you, Celine.” Samantha said, that brilliant, warm smile cutting Celine like a knife. Celine saw them back through her estate, making polite talk with Samantha, and yet she still refused to look at Edward. Only when they said goodbye, when he kissed her hand, did she look him in the eye. To her delight, she’d recovered enough to even offer him a soft smile, although she couldn’t make it anything more than sad.

When the carriage pulled away and was suitably out of sight, Celine hitched up her skirt, threw the Portuguese essay on Sloth as hard as she could at the nearest statue, and stormed to the armory. One pistol acquired later, she stalked past Sebastian again, ignoring his smirk, and strode through the garden and onto the wild grounds of her estate. Four hours, twenty four bullets, and more tears than Celine would like to admit to later, she’d shot two turkeys, a pheasant, three rabbits, and many, many trees. Night was falling, and instead of making the long trek back to the manor, she simply reloaded her pistol, sat by her neatly arranged game, and waited. 

Before too long, predictably, Sebastian appeared to fetch her, expression carefully blank. “Quite a haul, my Lady.” He commented blandly, surveying the neat shots through the eyes or necks of her kills. 

“Please prepare the finest meat pie and send it to Edward and Samantha as a congratulations on their marriage. If any of the leftover meat is in danger of becoming waste, offer it to the locals in the countryside.” Celine ordered in a monotone.

“You were…previously engaged to Lord Midford?” Sebastian enquired. His tone was perfectly polite, the question as unobtrusive as possible, and yet it still ignited her rage with such furor that she acted without thinking.

Before she could stop herself, Celine spun around and shot Sebastian directly in the forehead, blood splattering his face and hair as the bullet passed clean through. When he collapsed, as if he was a discarded toy, she dropped the gun with trembling hands, face as pale as snow. “Was that quite necessary?” Sebastian sounded annoyed as he stood back up effortlessly, pulling off a glove with his teeth and using it to dab delicately at the blood streaking down his face. “My Lady?” He asked with a touch of concern when she fell to her knees, watching him with wide, horrified eyes. She’d watched him be shot numerous times without this kind of reaction, and so he was briefly confused at the horror in her expression.

“I shot _you_.” Celine whispered, unable to pull her gaze away from the horrid red staining his skin, dripping from his hair, seeping into the stark white of his glove as he wiped his face clean. “I should have shot _him.”_

“I beg your pardon?” Sebastian asked, looking on in open surprise when Celine let out an unmasked sob, the first he’d ever heard from her, and buried her face into her hands. Usually, Celine was too proud to show emotion so openly.

“I want complete and utter revenge on those who sullied my name, on those who caused me pain and humiliation. Does Edward not count in that regard? He re-marries whilst in a mourning period for my death, and then has the gall to bring his new wife with him to reunite with me? He _dares_ to—to parade her perfection, her purity, in my face and then ask for forgiveness?” Celine spat. “Worse yet, I know I cannot do it. I cannot hurt him because I _love_ him like a fool. God, Sebastian, your Mistress is nothing more than a hopeless, romantic _child._ I’m too WEAK to shoot him, and so I shot you instead. Disgusting.” She hiccuped her last word furiously in a sob, getting to her feet and swiping tears from her eye. 

“My Lady-,” Sebastian started, but Celine cut him off.

“No. Tonight I spend alone. Do not come unless I call for you. Do you understand?” Celine asked, eyes blazing with fury and anguish, picking her gun up out of the grass and striding away without waiting for a response. 

Quite worried and befuddled, Sebastian did as ordered. In the morning, when an essay was placed on the butler’s desk in flawless Portuguese, outlining the dangers of Sloth but dotted with tear marks and slightly warped ink, Sebastian only offered comments on the structure of her argument. However, after a long day of tense, cloying silence, he delivered a cup of warm milk to her room without comment. She’d been completely correct- she was well within her right to cause Edward misery for his slight against her, and yet she wasn’t going to in a the first and hopefully last weak moment he saw from her. Besides it being a surprising and irritating flaw to her otherwise delicious character, Sebastian, although he wouldn’t admit it, was slightly distressed by her behavior.

As a demon, he could do _anything_ but change the emotions of humans. He could manipulate them in an attempt to change their emotions, but if that failed he truly could do nothing. There was nothing he could do to ease his Mistress’ sorrow, even though that would unfavorably alter the taste of her soul. Sebastian, in a singular and surprising character flaw, found that he didn’t care in the slightest. He WANTED to help, and was unable to. It was irritating, to say the least. 

 


	4. The Phantomhive Servants

_He WANTED to help, and was unable to. It was irritating, to say the least._

_[][][][][][][][]_

“Your name is Bardroy? Or do you prefer Bard?” Celine asked, looking at the man Sebastian had suggested she hire with slight curiosity. He was still wearing a military uniform for the United States Army, and was standing stiffly at parade rest in front of her desk. 

“Bard is fine, ma’am.” He answered with all the decorum of a soldier.

“Hmm. Sebastian tells me you would make an excellent chef, but I am more interested in your other talents. If you are to work for me, you must serve in more capacities than a simple chef.” Celine said, unable to fight down a smirk. The idea that Sebastian would actually let anyone else cook for her was laughable, at best. Even if Bardroy was the best chef in the world, Sebastian’s demonic skills could beat him easily, and Sebastian was under contract to only give her his very best. 

“I’m a combat and pyrotechnics specialist, ma’am.” He relayed. Celine considered his qualifications. According to Sebastian, Bard was also an expert tactician, and had taken out an entire unit of the enemy…by himself. If Sebastian thought him worthy of protecting the estate, then she had to agree.

“My line of work is quite unsavory, Bard. Sebastian has killed more intruders than I can count on this property, and my enemies will not hesitate to kill you. Working here could be dangerous. Would you still seek employment here, regardless?” Celine asked, remembering the first night she’d lost her temper and lectured Sebastian on _quietly_ murdering all of her enemies on the lawn under her window. What he did with the corpses, she would never know.

“To be frank ma’am, the danger is the reason I’m here, innit?” Bard responded, and Celine couldn’t help but smile at that. 

[][][][][][][][]

“Meyrin, Sebastian tells me that you can kill a man with a rifle from two hundred yards away…without a scope. Your shots are always perfect, and you never miss.” Celine said, unable to keep the impressed tone out of her voice as she read over the dossier Sebastian had prepared for her on the new ‘maid’. 

“That’s right, my Lady.” The girl’s Cockney accent, large, oddly beautiful eyes, and the fierceness that she could exhibit under pressure had interested Celine, and she had ordered Sebastian to offer her employment at the Manor. To her surprise, he'd agreed with her assessment. 

“I have no small amount of enemies, who at any time on any day attempt to take this manor by force and kill me. Can I count on you to kill any intruder skillfully, and without hesitation?” Celine asked, and Meyrin nodded furiously.

“Oh yes, Mistress. It would be my pleasure.” Meyrin promised, and so Celine hired a sniper as her maid, tolerating the broken plates, shrieks of surprise, and general clumsiness of the girl with only minimal irritation, especially when Meyrin could kill men before they could even step foot on her property. 

[][][][][][][][]

“It’s alright. I’d like to speak with you.” Celine found herself in the streets of the East End, talking coaxingly to the strangest boy she’d ever seen. His shift was reminiscent of a hospital or a prison, and was bald. Wide, beautiful green eyes stared at her, trying to decide if she was an enemy or not. Every muscle of his body was tensed with fear and distrust. She and Sebastian, walking to the carriage from a successful extortion of a local merchant, had watched the boy bend a manhole cover in half without so much as a blink to escape the sewer. His strength and the fact that he clearly had nowhere else to go fascinated her. It also reminded her, just slightly, of the children she couldn’t save. “This is Sebastian. My name is Celine. What’s yours?”

“Don’t have one.” The boy said, eyes flicking from her to Sebastian and back again.

“You’re shivering. Would you like to come and work for me? I would feed, house, and clothe you.” Celine didn’t mention his strength. “The only catch is that many people try to come and harm or kill me. I would need you to help protect my estate as well.”

“Could I work outside? With the birds?” The boy asked, daring to hope.

“I believe we have need of a gardner, my Lady.” Sebastian said smoothly, expressing his approval of her pick for additional staff. “Does that suit you?” He asked the boy, who nodded energetically, hope shining in his eyes. The sight of it made the bitter hatred in Celine’s soul lessen by just a tiny, tiny fraction.

“Take this.” Celine said, slipping out of the men’s jacket that was a part of her ensemble, courtesy of Nina. It would be much to small for the boy, but he could drape it over his shoulders to ward off the chill. He took it, marveling at her kindness and the fabric before tucking it around himself.

A day later, after a bath and fresh clothes, Celine asked if he wouldn’t mind being called Finnian, or Finny for short. The name came from one of her favorite tales growing up as a child about a man so fast and strong that he could run for days. The boy almost completely destroyed the book she'd given him on accident he was so happy, and he wholeheartedly agreed to the christening, shining with happiness.

And so Finnian joined her staff.

[][][][][][][][]

“Sebastian…do you feel pain the way normal humans do? Can you feel tiredness?” Celine asked sleepily. It was, at the very least, four in the morning. She’d stayed up most of the night working on company paperwork, and had done so the past few nights, seeing as an unforeseeable crisis was gripping her livelihood. She had worked furiously, and accomplished more than any normal person could, but even Celine had limits. Sebastian had come in and woken her up, considering she’d fallen asleep at her desk. 

“Our pain scale varies from yours. A cut or a bullet wound causes pain, but it is negligible.” Sebastian answered, sounding half guarded by her question, half amused by her sleepy state. 

“Do you get tired? Really tired? Do you even sleep?” Celine slurred, mindlessly allowing Sebastian to pick her up right out of her desk chair, considering she hadn’t even realized that she’d lay down her head once more. “Do I work you too hard?” She murmured into his shirt, already half-asleep again.

“I assure you, my Lady, that I cannot be exhausted by menial tasks such as these.I could never tire of you.” The words escaped before he could stop them, and he stopped dead in the hallway, prepared to be interrogated for his slip up that not even he had an explanation for. However, much to his relief, Celine had fallen asleep in the middle of his answer, one hand gripping his lapel like a child would. When he had to gently pull her fingers off, one by one, she made some sort of whimper in her sleep.

“Sebastian, did I order the elephant? _Dónde está la bicicleta?_ ” Celine murmured, letting out a soft, and, although Sebastian hated to admit it, adorable sigh as he pulled off her shoes and corset. 

“The elephant is ordered, my Lady. _La bicicleta está en el jardín_. Never fear.” He answered, smirking, as he undid the clasp of her necklace, setting the chain and rings on her nightstand with care. 

“Sebastian?” Celine sighed as he pulled off her eyepatch with deft fingers, placing it on the nightstand as well.

“Yes, my Lady?” He asked, unable to hide the amusement from his voice, pulling the blankets up around her. Trying to put her in a nightdress, at this point, would be more uncomfortable for her, and would most likely wake her up. It was better to let her sleep, and he’d accept any scolding the next day for letting her dress get rumpled.

“I could never tire of you either,” Celine mumbled into her pillow. Astounded, Sebastian watched her drift off, and stayed by her bedside longer than he’d ever admit. 

 


	5. Reclaiming Her Title

_“I could never tire of you either,” Celine mumbled into her pillow. Astounded, Sebastian watched her drift off, and stayed by her bedside longer than he’d ever admit._

_[][][][][][][][]_

“My Lady,” Sebastian called through the door of her study, and when he received a muted permission, he entered, a single letter placed on his silver tray. “You have a letter, my Lady.” He said, offering the platter towards her. Absorbed in her work, Celine absentmindedly reached out, felt across the platter whilst scribbling furiously with her other hand, took the letter, and set it on her desk. 

“Thank you,” She said after a full thirty seconds, sounding distracted.

“My Lady, forgive my impertinence, but you should read the letter right away. It appears to be from the Queen.” Sebastian said, smirking, and Celine froze mid word, the nib of her pen soaking ink into the paper before she removed it, set down her pen, and opened the letter with a completely flat expression, Sebastian’s clue that she was nervous.

Celine slid out the letter, and unfolded the paper inside the envelope.

 

_My dearest child,_

_Words cannot describe my relief upon hearing that you have returned to us safely. I offer you the deepest condolences for the loss of your family, Celine. While you were gone, you were presumed dead. As you are the last descendent of house Phantomhive, your property and title, with all rights and responsibilities, were returned to the Crown. Now that you have returned, I warmly invite you to the Palace to reclaim what is yours. Please join me at the ceremony planned for April 10th._

_Victoria_

 

 _My title. Returned? Does that mean I will carry on my family’s position as well? If I cannot become the Guard Dog, my revenge will be unattainable._ Celine’s thoughts raced as she scanned the letter one more time.

“My Lady?” Sebastian’s question snapped her out of her daze, and she lifted her chin instinctively, passing the letter to Sebastian.

“Call Nina Hopkins at once- I will need proper garb in which to see her Majesty.” Celine said, frowning at her desktop, paperwork forgotten. 

“Indeed. What an honor this is.” Sebastian said blandly, and yet it was a very pointed message to her; this was another crucial step to them both getting what they wanted.

“Sebastian, tomorrow I will need to be dressed in my corset as well. If I am going to be able to wear one appropriately at the ceremony, I will need to start retraining myself as soon as possible.” Celine added, ignoring his remark. 

“My Lady, the brand on your side is still healing.” Sebastian pointed out, and Celine turned to treat him with a cool look. “I will air out the garment immediately.” He reversed, offering her a light bow and a false smile that, to anyone else, looked to be the epitome of politeness. Celine treated him to a brief smirk that had no real feeling before she returned to her work, expression deep in thought. 

The next morning, Celine showed no signs of nervousness as Sebastian fit the corset around her waist, lacing it and starting to pull the slack through all of the tiny laces until the corset would at least stay on by itself. Celine then braced her hands on the bed post, as she had always done, and took in a deep breath. “Pull,” she commanded, and Sebastian did as ordered…but gently. The tension pulled the lacing taught, and then tight. “Again,” Celine said, a note of pain entering her voice. She’d stiffened when he tightened the corset, and her next inhale was more of a hiss. 

“Small steps, my Lady,” Sebastian deflected, tying the slack off in a perfect, tight bow. To his surprise, Celine whirled around, her glare boring into him. She hardly ever looked at him like that- she was too proud to show when she was angry with him. That glare, that intense look, was usually only reserved for enemies. 

“I gave you an order, Sebastian. The last time I was seen in public, my corset was almost four times tighter than this. I will not look slovenly in front of her Majesty.” She said sharply.

“You were also, according to my estimate, ten pounds heavier. You have only gained back five pounds, my Lady, and you are still wounded. I will not risk your health for the sake of your figure.” He said calmly, and, to his surprise and delight, Celine flushed a brilliant pink, adding much needed color to pale cheeks. While it wasn’t common for demons to feel anything for their contractee other than dutiful protection and hunger, Sebastian wasn’t a common demon. No other human had both amused and infuriated him so much in his long life. And, although he wasn’t sure why, the sight of Celine, blushing, in a corset and petticoats, was both amusing and…beautiful. 

“I suppose I can pace out this process more. If the ceremony is on the tenth, and if I am fitted in the processional gown on the seventh, that means I have…” Celine had started pacing as she thought out loud, playing absentmindedly with the chain around her neck. It was one of those moments that Sebastian found her quite amusing. 

“My Lady, shall I finish dressing you?” He inquired, and, to his continued delight, Celine blushed a bit more, walking back over. 

“Yes. I have a lot to do today. What is on my schedule besides managing the finances of the Indian companies?” 

[][][][][][][][]

On April 10th, Celine showed no sign of any emotion whatsoever. She was awake before Sebastian came with her traditional morning cup of tea, and greeted him calmly. When it came time to get dressed, she coolly ordered him to tighten her corset again and again, until her waist was cinched dramatically. According to Nina Hopkins, whom he’d asked about this sort of thing, the current diameter of her waist was consistent with her previous, pre-demon contract look. Despite that, he had to doubt her, just a little bit. The severity and the tightness of the corset that Celine preferred seemed cruel, even to a demon. He could already see how she’d switched to a different, yet still calm, breathing pattern- she was used to such torment in the name of fashion. It was odd. 

The dress was beautiful, even if Celine thought the color was ridiculous. Nina had done a magnificent job, fitting Celine into a gown that was both powerful and feminine. It was a pure, strong white, with blue silk accents that matched her one, visible eye. A blue silk eyepatch completed the look, and Sebastian, who had learned a new hairstyle for the occasion, curled and pinned her hair into a perfect, regal updo. Her look complete, Celine looked beautiful and dangerous, exactly what she’d wanted. The carriage ride there, she sat in silence, frowning at the passing city. She could see a blurry reflection of Sebastian in the window, occasionally glancing at her, but she put him out of her mind in order to focus on the prize.

When she walked in to the Grand Hall, hushed whispers erupted. Her return had been more of a rumor than anything else, despite the wild gains Funtom Company had made over the past few months. Ugly rumors, spreading from the truth of Edward’s marriage and breaking of their betrothal had turned any facts about her return into folly. Calling upon her hatred once again, for strength, Celine practically floated down the walkway, looking at no one, her head held high and calm. When she arrived in front of the Queen, she sank into a low, effortless curtsy, holding it until the Queen placed a hand on her shoulder, bidding her rise. “My dear child,” she said, and then laughed gently. “You are no longer!” She amended.

“I am not deserving of your praise,” Celine murmured, and barely held back a flinch when the Queen lightly lifted her chin, initiating direct eye contact. She examined Celine, the eyepatch, and the rings around her neck before offering her a gentle smile once more.

“I hereby reinstate you as Countess Celine Rachel Phantomhive, and return to you all properties and _appointments_ that belonged to the Phantomhive family.” Queen Victoria told her, adding barely an ounce more of stress to the word ‘appointments’, but, for Celine, it was the confirmation she’d been dying to hear. “Welcome back, my dear.” She added, placing the processional sash about her shoulders.

The room filled with applause, and Celine felt, for the first time in months, her hope swell within her. Her hope was not for a new future, but for her revenge. She would now have the tools and the _power_ that Sebastian hadn’t been able to give her to find every single person who had attacked her family and her name and destroy them. She thought of the man who had raped her, and the snapping noises his bones had made under Sebastian’s hands. The thought of it, the thought of doing that to anyone else who had wronged her, made her feel as if she could fly. She gave one more curtsy to the Queen, almost low enough to brush her nose on the floor, before standing and walking back through the crowd of nobles, through their whispers and stares. Sebastian, who had waited at the back of the room, followed her out without so much as a comment, which was unusual for him.

“Celine! I am so proud of you. You look absolutely marvelous!” Her Aunt, Madam Red, found her right away, leaving the Grand Hall and hugging her warmly. Celine bit the inside of her cheek when her Aunt’s well-meaning squeeze pressed right on her brand, jolting her with pain that she knew Sebastian didn’t miss. 

“Thank you. Do you think Nina did a good job?” She asked, purposefully making her voice higher as she did a brief twirl for Madam Red. Passing and spying nobles would see the same girl that had disappeared almost a year ago- the beautiful, _safe_ Celine Phantomhive. They wouldn’t know how dangerous and vicious she had become unless it was too late for them. 

“Don’t be silly. She did a _great_ job. Oh, that reminds me. I’ve got to dash- work never stops, you know!” Madam Red kissed her on both cheeks, smiling ear to ear. “Don’t stay and gossip too long, Celine. Ciao!!” Angelina sang, flouncing off. 

“Gossip. Right.” Celine said flatly, frowning after her before delicately making her way around groups of nobles talking and gossiping until she found an empty hallway. 

“Now you have everything you had before. Do you regret it? Making a contract with me when you could have gone back to your happy life?” Sebastian’s voice rang out behind her, surprising her. Celine’s steps petered out and stopped as she processed what he’d said.

“You’re right; my life was happy.” She said softly, and Sebastian slowly reached out a hand, ready to grab her and suck out her soul for invalidating the contract. Before he could, she whipped around, fixing him with a glare that the likes of which he had never seen before. “That was before I was humiliated and my spirit was tried and nearly broken. I will _never_ get back what I lost, and so I will drag everyone down with me.” She said fiercely, stepping forward, brushing his hand aside, and poking him accusingly in the chest. “I will never regret what I’ve done so long as _you_ hold up your end of the deal. You will stop doubting me.” Celine reached up and easily pulled off the silk eyepatch, revealing her glimmering, purple eye that was marked with the contract. “Sebastian, this is an order. You will be my sword and my shield, and you _will bring me victory!”_ She declared.

Sebastian had hardly ever seen something so beautiful. A soul that was both pure and tarnished, clad in _white,_ of all colors, proudly declaring her intent to walk further into Hell was so enticing that he felt a pang of hunger. Her single-minded need to validate her pain with revenge was as foolish as it was admirable. By the time he’d achieved her revenge, that pure exterior and that white, white dress would be stained and dripping with the blood of her enemies, and any collateral she piled up along the way without an ounce of regret. The prospect was exciting, to say the least. 

Sebastian bowed on one knee, ducking his head in respect. “Yes, my Lady. It would be my genuine pleasure.” 

 


	6. The Passage of Time

_Sebastian bowed on one knee, ducking his head in respect. “Yes, my Lady. It would be my genuine pleasure.”_

_[][][][][][][][]_

Leaving Sebastian to fight off the brunt of the assailants, Celine promptly tore off her break-away skirts and took off in a dead sprint after the informant she needed to squeal and his guards. She pulled her pistol out of her vest as she ran, hastily slotting six bullets into the chamber as she ran around another corner, her heeled boots splashing in puddles. When a bullet nearly took her ear off, she rolled behind a crate, ears pricked. When she heard her informant shift, hesitating, she whipped back around the corner and got one of his guards right between the eyes, wounding another in the shoulder before ducking back down. Adrenaline made her blood sing as she listened carefully. Counting the wounded man, there were three left besides the informant, who she needed alive and (mostly) unharmed. 

Inching around the other side of the crate she’d taken refuge behind, she silently slunk behind the wounded man and another who was trying to bind his wound, and shot both. Two bullets left, she used a wall for cover when the remaining man, now cornered with the informant, nearly shot her. Sensing her moment was at hand to go in for the kill, Celine whirled back out, only to find herself face to face with the remaining man, who had snuck up on her. She promptly shot him in the kneecap, taking the punch to the ribs with a grunt, staggering. The man went for his gun, and she promptly shot him through the hand, making him scream out again. Opening the chamber, Celine shook out the spent casings into the street and added six more bullets, nudging his gun out of the way. Then, she calmly shot him right in the face. “That just leaves you. Tell me what I want to know, Watkins, and you will not be harmed.” Celine said to the dead-end of the alley, and the informant slowly emerged, hands raised in surrender.

“A Lady like you, wearing trousers? Shooting lads? What a disgrace, that is.” Watkins sneered, and Celine smirked, pointing the gun right at his knee.

“You can withstand a considerable amount of _pain_ without impacting your ability to tell me what I need to know. Don’t forget that.” Celine warned.

“Huh. The rumors are true. The pretty little thing is the Queen’s _bitch_ after all.” Watkins spat. Giving Watkins her best impression of Sebastian’s pleasant yet terrifying smile, Celine shot him in the knee.

“The title is the Queen’s Guard Dog, actually.” She corrected mildly as Watkins huffed out breaths of agony, trying to apply pressure to his bloodied knee. “Now. The buyer, please.” 

“I ain’t telling you—aagghh!” He screamed out again when she shot his other knee, sending him face-first onto the wet, cold pavement. Celine strode forward, placing her foot on Watkins’ head.

“I’m not very patient, Watkins. Who is the buyer?” She asked dangerously.

“Geldings, the tailor!” Watkins’ revealed in a tremulous voice. Sighing, Celine shot him in the knee again, producing yet another scream of agony.

“I don’t tolerate liars, either. I won’t ask you again.” Celine said very quietly, chambering the next round. 

“Fine, fine! Lord Conway. Conway is the buyer, alright?” Watkins’ voice was significantly angrier, all traces of fear gone- just anger and pain remained. Being shown up by a young woman had to be embarrassing, and she had to briefly admire that he chose anger and hatred over fear. Then, Watkins had to seal his fate. “Now get off me, ya cunt!” He demanded. For a moment, all Celine could do was watch him struggle uselessly under her foot, too weak from the bullet wounds to shove her off completely, trying to comprehend what he’d had the _gall_ to call her. 

“Is that the best you can do? Your retorts are primitive, at best, and my retorts come in the form,” she shot him in the thigh, “of,” she shot him in the other thigh, “ _bullets.”_ Her gun was empty- she’d used her last clip riddling the man with bullets, and yet Celine didn’t care. She depended on Sebastian for so much, and taking one more step towards her revenge, towards building her reputation, on her own no less, was immensely satisfying. Watkins was moaning in pain when she stooped, grabbing him by the hair and lifting him upright. Recalling the training Meyrin had given her, Celine locked her elbow around his throat, grabbed his jaw with her opposite hand, and pulled sharply. With a snap that reminded her of Sebastian breaking her rapist’s bones, she broke his neck, killing him. Sighing, she dropped the corpse to the street, noting with additional satisfaction that she hadn’t gotten any blood on her clothes, only on her boots. “Are you two going to stand there all night?” She asked, brushing herself off regardless, turning around.

From atop a neighboring building, both her butler and Grell, the reaper, jumped down. “My dear, how ravishing! A pity you didn’t get any blood on you though. You would look dangerous and _divine_ in red.” Grell complimented, spinning Celine in a little circle before a warning look from Sebastian made her back off, towards the corpses in the alley.

“Did you enjoy your break?” Celine teased loftily, poking fun at her demon for watching her murder the men, and Sebastian treated her to his least-terrifying smile. 

“You had the situation under control, my Lady. You did quite an admirable job.” He noted, surveying the corpses. Most of her shots, besides the ones meant to inflict pain, had been precise and deadly. “I was aware that you carried a revolver, but not that you were skilled in using it.” He said, referring to the fact that they hadn’t trained together on self-defense and weapons. He knew that she’d talked to Meyrin, but he’d never expected such proficiency in a young woman. 

“I thought I ordered you to stop doubting me, Sebastian. I was raised a Phantomhive, and was betrothed to the heir of the most skilled family of knights in all of England.” Celine continued lightly, reopening the chamber and shaking the spent casings into the street. The revolver was tucked back into her vest, out of sight. The only lingering evidence to her murders was the blood on her shoes and the powder burns on her fingers, and Sebastian would take care of both.

“On the To-Die list, it said that all of your victims would be shot to death. I never expected you’d add in that little extra _twist!”_ Grell sang from behind them, mimicking the motion of snapping someone’s neck. “If I were in to women, honey, you would be my first choice!”

“Grell,” Sebastian warned, suddenly oddly protective. He wouldn’t admit jealousy, considering it was ludicrous to suggest that there would be any competition between him and Grell if the Lady were to- _no, NO,_ he wouldn’t think about it. 

“I suppose that was a compliment.” Celine sighed. “Well, I have the name of the buyer- Lord Conway. Shall we pay him a visit?” She suggested. Her nonchalance at moving from murder to business was just another reason why Sebastian found his prey beautiful. Her dedication to getting what she wanted, so ruthless and calm and _clean,_ reminded him of a demon. 

“Perhaps not tonight. It is quite late, and you are scheduled to survey profit margins from the toy sector tomorrow.” he reminded, and Celine scrunched her nose up briefly, disappointed. “Also, I should see to the powder burns on your hand as soon as possible. If I do not treat them soon, they won’t fade for a few days.” He added, all business. Celine always looked dainty and untouchable when she wore gloves, but she usually didn’t care for them. If she had to wear gloves to hide the burns, she’d be put out, and he wouldn't want that. In the darkness and gore of the alley, he’d never seen her soul shine brighter. 

“Fine. To the townhouse, then.” She said, lifting an arm to place it around his neck as he picked her up. At first, she’d hated the idea of being carried about like a new bride, but the economy of traveling such a way outweighed her initial pride. Seeing her bend to logic on that one had been most entertaining for Sebastian. “Goodnight, Grell.” She added flatly, and the reaper blew her a kiss.

“Thanks for the entertainment, tonight, darling! It almost distracted me from Bassy it was so good!” Grell called after them as Sebastian took to the air, darting from rooftop to rooftop. He set her back on her feet in front of the door to the townhouse, getting the door with a polite bow.

“Thank you, Bassy,” she said pointedly, and he resisted the urge to sigh out loud. In an oddly childlike display of character, whenever they ran into Grell, she called him ‘Bassy’. Thankfully, his Mistress only did it once, but it still made him just the slightest bit exasperated every time, even though he knew it was coming. 

[][][][][][][]

His Mistress was terribly ill.

It started with a light cold after Celine had been utterly drenched when an assailant pushed her into the Thames. She’d proven to be a surprisingly good swimmer, but she’d been weighted down by petticoats and a full skirt, and had nearly drowned. After snapping the neck of the man who had nearly killed his Mistress, Sebastian took Celine back to the London townhouse, giving her a cup of warm milk as he prepared a hotter bath than usual. 

After he’d made her stay in the bath until every inch of her was pink with heat, he’d forced her to bed in a winter nightdress and an extra blanket. Despite all of his efforts, the next morning, Celine was paler than usual, masked coughs at the breakfast table, and sneezed during her violoncello lesson. At first, Sebastian had seen it as a minor inconvenience. Humans got sick so _easily_ , and so he’d have to reformat her schedule for at least three days until her health improved. However, Celine didn’t get better; she got much worse.

Three days after she’d gotten her cold, when he entered her room in the morning to wake her up, she was still sound asleep, which was unusual. She was usually awake before he entered, and, even ill the past three days, had been awake, although drowsy. When he opened the curtains, letting in the light, she didn’t even stir. In the clear light of day, he could see that her cheeks were on fire with fever, and a sheen of sweat on her brow. When he called her, placing a gloved hand on her forehead to feel the blazing heat for himself, she barely stirred.

Sebastian was in a crisis. He knew better than anyone that most doctors didn’t know a thing about medicine, but his Mistress was quite ill. He could try looking after her himself, he had no doubt that he could, but without medicine, he couldn’t do much. Although it pained him to do it, he left Tanaka at her side, armed with extra blankets, a dish of cool water, and a soft cloth. One furious run through town later, he’d ‘acquired’ medicine to help ease her fever. When he got back, he was shocked. Tanaka had elected Meyrin to help him- they’d drawn up a cool bath and had put Lady Celine in, nightdress and all, trying to cool her down. She was still motionless, except for the slight twitching of her eyelids, but he had to admit that Tanaka’s initiative was both smart and necessary; Lady Celine felt cooler to the touch. 

Sebastian dismissed both Meyrin and Tanaka with his thanks, toweled Celine off, lingering only a moment over the red symbol burned into her flesh, before bundling her into a fresh night dress and carrying her back to bed. He took her temperature (101.7) before giving her the injection of medicine. He then sat beside her, round the clock, and monitored her fever, dotting sweat from her brow. Struck with a panic he had no idea how to get rid of, he even found himself reading to her, trying to distract himself from the slightly static feeling he was getting from the contract. It was hanging in the balance, waiting for Celine to either improve or die. He’d never been scared in his entire, long life for a contractee, and yet here he was, reading ‘Alice in Wonderland’ in a low voice, trying not to panic. 

When he finished the story, he checked her temperature again, and was relieved to see that it had gone down (100.2). As he was putting the thermometer back on the nightstand, Celine stirred, her forehead crumpling slightly. “Celine?” Her name was out before he’d even thought about it, and he found himself sitting on the edge of the bed, brushing her fringe away from her eye. His insides jumped when her eyes flickered open, still dull with fever. It took a moment for her to focus on his face, but when she did, a hint of a smile, weighed down with exhaustion and delirium, pulled at her lips.

“I found you,” Celine whispered, sounding relieved.

“I assure you, I have not left your side,” Sebastian answered, not understanding. When her smile only got surer, he felt as if he was missing something important. Had she been conscious enough to know that he’d left to get medicine? 

“You were a bunny,” Celine half-slurred, half giggled, her eyes closing again. Suddenly, it all made sense, and he cast a look at the book on the nightstand. “Sebastian?” she asked, and his gaze snapped back to hers.

“Yes, my Lady?” He replied, and she opened her eyes again, fixing him with a surprisingly firm look for someone with such a high fever.

“This is an order…do _not_ be a bunny. Ever.” She said, and a low, rumbling chuckle escaped him, full of both relief and mirth at the thought of himself being a _rabbit_ in her fever-fueled hallucinations. Had she given him ears? And a tail? 

Pressing a hand to his chest, he promised, solemnly, “I will never be a rabbit, my Lady. I swear it.” A fond smile accompanied his oath, and Celine weakly nodded her approval, closing her eyes with a satisfied hum.

The next day, Celine was more sane than before, and conscious for longer. She appeared to have very little memory of the previous day, and asked Sebastian with a suitably befuddled expression why a copy of ‘Alice and Wonderland’ was on her nightstand. She was more concerned with the idea she’d somehow gotten, most likely from her hallucination of Sebastian as a rabbit, if they’d discussed plans for somehow decorating the estate for Easter. 

Therefore, the memory of Celine, giggling at the idea of him being a rabbit, was his and his alone. He could cherish it whenever he wanted, the only clue being a slightly more wicked smirk than usual, which elicited such a delightfully confused response in Celine that it made the memory even better each time. He promised himself that before the contract ended and before he devoured her soul (although the thought of it made his insides clench uncomfortably instead of with his usual hunger) that he would tell her about his promise to never be a rabbit.

 


	7. The Death of Madam Red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter details the first meeting of Celine and Grell Sutcliffe. The events here happen before those in the previous chapter. I've written wherever the muse takes me, which is never in chronological order. Sorry about that!

_“I found you,” Celine whispered, sounding relieved._

_“I assure you, I have not left your side,” Sebastian answered, not understanding. When her smile only got surer, he felt as if he was missing something important._

[][][][][][][][]

Blood. There was so…much…blood.

Celine had been expecting it; she’d had her suspicions about her Aunt, but she’d never imagined it would have such an affect on her. She’d seen so much cruelty and death, so surely she could handle a crime scene? She quickly discovered that no, she couldn’t. Was she standing in a doorway in London, dressed in disguise, or was she huddled in a cage, watching children be slaughtered? It was cold. The stench of blood was overwhelming, and it was suddenly difficult not to vomit. She thought she heard Sebastian, a sharp, “No!”, but she couldn’t be sure.

It took her a moment to realize that Sebastian had moved her back and away, covering her eyes with one gloved hand, touch both delicate and protective. He’d draped his coat over her too, the scent and heat familiar. “It would be best if you came out of there,” he called, sounding calm but disgusted. After a moment, Celine heard the sound of shoes on stone. Forcing back the memories seared into her eyelids of children dying, their blood dripping and oozing, she gripped Sebastian’s wrist. After a moment, he obliged and took the hand off of her eyes.

Her aunt’s butler, Sutcliff, stepped out, splattered with blood. “I—I tried to help,” He attempted to lie, to pretend as if he wasn't to blame. “I heard the scream and ran over as soon as I could!”

“Stop playing innocent. Step into the light, Aunt. I know you are there.” Celine called, voice sharp. After a moment, her lovely aunt, her last living family member, stepped out of the shadowy doorway, also splattered with blood. It made darker splotches against her red dress and coat, hardly noticeable. 

“I never thought you would suspect your dear Auntie.” She said, voice cool. “When did you realize it?”

“Once all of the bodies were linked by the standard cut for a hysterectomy, it became very clear. What took the longest was linking you to the crimes, considering your alibi was flawless. It’s not just you, is it? The two of you together are Jack the Ripper.” Celine took a step forward, fists clenching. “What are you then? You certainly aren’t human.” She addressed Sutcliff.

“Me?” They chuckled. “Why, I am a lady, simply the _deadliest_ of reapers, darling. Allow me to introduce myself! Playing dress up as a man is so _boring.”_ She removed a comb, then produced fake eyelashes, and in seconds it was quite clear that the woman in front of them was not a human being. Long red hair, sharp teeth, and gleaming eyes gave her away. “Grell Sutcliff, reaper extraordinaire!” She blew a kiss at Sebastian, who scowled in return.

“You’ve broken reaper neutrality.” Sebastian said flatly. “You are supposed to collect souls, not take them.”

“I was persuaded to offer my assistance. You see, Madam Red here is quite captivating,” Grell purred, offering a sly smile to Celine’s aunt. 

“I suppose you intend to stop us,” Madam Red said very quietly. “Even though you understand why. That day at the hospital you were in tears at the thought of losing what makes you a woman, knowing that it would be a loss for me as well. You still wish to stop me when you feel the same pain as I do?”

“If I had asked you for it, would you have killed me?” Celine asked bitterly, blanching at the reminder of their conversation in the hospital, of memories of being raped. “Would you have waited, killed me now? When you lose something like that, you can never get it back. Killing women like this will not bring it back. I will stop you, regardless of the fact that you are my aunt.” Celine took a deep breath, prepared to order Sebastian to kill them both, but her aunt beat her to it.  

“I knew, somehow, that you wouldn’t understand.” Madam Red said, lip curling. “Grell?”

“It would be my _pleasure!”_ The reaper sang, withdrawing what could only be described as a the longest toothed blade Celine had ever seen. After a moment, it roared to life, blades circling and deadly. “Let’s _dance,_ Bassy!” She flew for Sebastian, swiping at him and giggling. Celine was used to seeing Sebastian dodging blows in a calm, bored fashion. Her butler did not look calm or bored now. Every muscle was tense, his face focused as he dodged each attack. His eyes were keen, looking for openings. They appeared, much to Celine’s dismay, evenly matched. Grell even sliced into Sebastian’s arm.

To her great surprise, a type of film appeared, ghostly and white. “A grim reaper’s job when harvesting a soul is to see _everything_ in their cinematic life record.” Grell watched it with interest, watched Sebastian accept his new Mistress’  request to break her rapist’s legs. It was a record of their first meeting. “I assess whether someone deserves to die! Most records are quite boring, but I am sure that _yours_ would prove quite interesting!”

“I do not have time for spies.” Sebastian dismissed flatly, dodging another swipe as their fight resumed. Giggling, Grell swiped hard and fast, and proceeded to pin Sebastian against the wall, their death scythe whirring dangerously close to the top of his shoulder. 

“Nor I for wasting time!” Grell cooed. “Madam, if you would? Kill that little _brat_ so we can be on our way!” 

“I’ll do what I have to, Celine. You really don’t leave me any other choice,” Angelina said quietly, reaching into her coat pocket and pulling out a knife. “All my life I have lost, and lost, and _lost._ No more. Not even you will stand in my _way!”_ She lunged faster than Celine expected. She started, moving out of the knife’s path, but it nicked her arm, drawing blood and slicing her sleeve. 

“Taking like this will not replace what you’ve lost.” Celine hissed, holding the cut, shuddering at the feeling of blood welling up between her fingertips. “You’re stupid to think that killing women like this will fix that gaping hole inside of you.” 

“ _And what do you know?!”_ Her aunt was there in a second, grabbing her by the throat and shoving her hard against the wall, taking Celine’s breath away. Even then, she hesitated to strike back- she had hedged her bets that her Aunt knew that she was right. Everyone in pain lashed out differently, but she could see (she hoped) that Madam Red was at the end of her rope. Celine _knew_ that Madam Red understood that killing women, even her own niece, would do nothing for her. Celine gasped for air as Angelina tightened her grip on her knife, raised it, and cried, “ _You should have never been born!”_

Then, Celine saw it. The flicker of pain, of shock, and Madam Red’s grip on her knife loosened. She was letting go of her throat when she heard Sebastian yell, “ _Young Mistress!”_ and a sick sounding squelch.

“Sebastian, stop!” Celine gasped as a black blur approached Madam Red at frightening speed. “ _Don’t kill her!”_

When the world stopped moving so fast, Celine could see that she’d been right. Her aunt had covered her face, back shaking. Her knife had fallen to the cobblestones. However, Celine could also see Sebastian. He was panting a little, each breath making a visible cloud in the cold air. His fingers were inches from her aunt’s head. He slowly withdrew his hand, and used it to cover a gash that nearly cut his arm right from his body. 

“Well, how sweet! Such devotion, _Bassy!”_ Grell crooned, pulling her death scythe, which was covered in blood, out of the wall where she’d previously had Sebastian pinned. “What a lovely shade on you! To think you’d sacrifice your arm to save that little brat!” She strode forward, eyes getting hard as they switched to Madam Red. “ _You,_ however, are extremely disappointing. Hurry up and _kill_ that little bitch already!”

Madam Red uncovered her face, and eyes filled with tears fixed onto Celine’s face. “My sister. Her husband. Their _child.”_ She whispered. “I loved them. I loved _him.”_ She took a step forward. “You’re all that’s left of them, Celine. I see them in you. I—I can’t do it after all. I can’t kill her.”

“What?” Grell squawked. “You’re saying that _now?_ You’ve killed so many women already! What’s one more, and so what if she looks like whomever?” She pointed at Celine and uttered, “Besides, if you don’t end her, she’ll end you!” 

“You’re so like them. Smart and strong and _beautiful.”_ Angelina said quietly, sorrowfully as she looked at her niece. A wide eye stared back, but it was an eye she knew well. It was her sister’s eye in the face of the man she’d loved with all her heart. “This girl…this girl is my fami-!”

Without another word, Grell took her death scythe and plunged it straight into Madam Red’s chest.

“How _disappointing,_ Madam Red!” Grell snarled, oblivious to the horrified gasp that bubbled out of Celine. “I have no interest in you if you are just a normal woman! How shameful!” 

The cinematic record of Angelina Dalles’ life blossomed out of her. Celine watched it, transfixed and numb. The truth, the horrible truth. How hadn’t she seen it before, how much her Aunt pined for her father? Everything, every second of her loss and frustration, her longing. Her sorrow when they died, her relief when Celine was standing in the waiting room of the hospital, filthy and bloody and thin, but _alive._ Her plan. Her pain every time she looked at Celine, the last link, the only physical representation left in the world of the man she’d loved and the woman, her own _sister,_ who had taken him away from her. Why had Celine survived but not Vincent? Why?

Why was the happiness gone, the light gone, from Celine? She’d been so _alive_ before. Now she was a dangerous, sad shell of the person Angelina had seen bloom and grow. 

She wouldn’t take it anymore. Too much had been taken from her. She wouldn’t give up _anything_ anymore!

“I loved you when you were painted red in the blood of your victims,” Celine could hardly hear Grell talking as her aunt’s corpse fell to the cobblestones. “Look at you now.” Grell sneered, slipping off her grey coat and letting it fall to the ground. “You aren’t _fit_ to wear red.” She grabbed her aunt’s coat and gave it a tug, pulling it off of her corpse. “Your cheap, pathetic little drama ends here.” She continued, tugging on the red coat and hefting her scythe. In the moonlight, she looked terrifying and cruel. It made Celine’s brain restart, her blood burn with rage. “Farewell, Madam,” Grell threw out her title like a taunt as she turned to walk away.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Celine asked softly, kneeling on numb legs to close her aunt’s eyes with trembling fingers. 

“Hmm? Did you say something?” Grell paused, barely turning her head and offering her a wicked smirk. Celine’s rage burned higher at the sight. That _creature_ had killed her aunt. Celine would have seen them both pay for their crimes. There was a difference between justice and _murder._ Madam Red surely would have hung for her part of Jack the Ripper, but it would have been a quick death. The fate she’d been handed, cut down like livestock in a back alley, was ill-fitting. 

“Sebastian, this is an order. End the final part of Jack the Ripper.” Celine forced out. The Queen was trusting her to put an end to the killings. Only half of that order was complete. When Sebastian didn’t move immediately, Celine reached up and pulled her eyepatch free. “Did you not hear me?” She asked sharply. “Finish this. Now!” She could feel the seal pulse in response.

“Yes, my Lady,” Sebastian read her expression before agreeing, a hint of a smirk pulling at his lip. Yes, she was letting her emotions get the best of her- she wanted Grell dead not for her part in the murders, but for what she’d done to the last living member of her family. For once, Celine didn’t care that she was emotional, didn’t care that Sebastian found her knee-jerk reaction amusing. All she wanted was for the reaper Grell Sutcliff to die.

“Oohoo! I was going to be polite and let you go. Professional courtesy and all that.” Grell sang, turning around and offering them a vicious smile. “ _But if you insist!”_ She fired up her scythe and engaged Sebastian in a duel.

For once, Celine paid no attention. She stayed at Madam Red’s side, numb and cold. Killing Grell would not fill the hole her Aunt’s conduct and death had created, no matter how badly she wanted it to. Nothing would. There was no one to take revenge on either. Once again, she was left with nothing. Bitterly, she sympathized even further with her dead aunt, even though that only made her grief stronger.

“You’re so fixated on that little brat!” She could hear Grell complaining. “I’m jealous!”

“I belong to her. My soul, my body, to every last hair on my head. I am hers. As long as there is a contract, we are bonded.” Sebastian was saying, eyes flaring to a demonic state. “For you see… I am simply one _hell_ of a butler.” 

As the grim reaper and the demon took to the rooftops, fighting in earnest, Celine slid Sebastian’s coat off of her shoulders and spread it over the corpse of Madam Red with shaky fingers. After a few minutes and a loud, dramatic cry from Grell, Sebastian appeared in a flash of motion and kicked the grim reaper all the way down the length of the alley.

“Please excuse me, my Lady. I misjudged the distance.” Sebastian said cordially, as if he’d made a simple mistake at the estate. He was splattered with blood, his one shoulder still cut. He was sporting a new slash, diagonal across his chest, and the wound looked deep. 

“You look awful.” Celine said, tracking to blood smeared on the side of his face. Sebastian offered her his eyes-closed kind of smile.

“I did have a bit of trouble with her.” He admitted, as if talking about making a selection of tea and not about murdering a supernatural creature. “Although I am not quite finished.” He strode over to where the death scythe had fallen off the roof and plucked it from the ground. “This will do quite nicely,” He said with a disgusting, sadistic kind of cheer, pulling the remains of what looked like his tailcoat free from the moving parts of the weapon. “A grim reaper’s scythe can cut _anything,_ right?” He prompted as Grell attempted to sit up. He responded with a hard kick to the back of her head, pressing her face to the cobblestones.

“Bassy, that _hurts!”_ Grell’s whine was muffled as she attempted to crawl away. Sebastian pressed harder with his foot to pin her.

“As hideous as she may be, she is a divine being. Are you prepared to face the consequences of killing the divine?” Sebastian asked over his shoulder to his Mistress.

“My order has not changed.” Celine said shortly, clenching her shaking fingers into tight fists. “Kill her.”

“Yes, my Lady,” Sebastian agreed pleasantly, firing up the scythe. 

He raised it right as Grell squealed, “Wait! Don’t you want to know who killed your parents?” 

Celine froze, every muscle tightening, as a type of rod appeared out of nowhere, blocking Sebastian from delivering the final blow. Following the length of the rod, it was suddenly apparent that a man in a suit was standing on a nearby rooftop, shadowed in the moonlight. “I apologize for interrupting your conversation.” He said flatly. “I am William T. Spears.” He retracted the rod, and adjusted his glasses with the scissor like end of his scythe. “I am an administrator at the Grim Reaper Staffing Association. I have come to collect that reaper there,” He continued shortly, eyes flicking to Grell. 

“William! You came to _save_ me!” Grell swooned, and then squealed into the stone street as the newest arrival stepped off the roof and landed directly onto her head, planting her face into the ground. 

“Reaper Grell Sutcliff, you have violated several regulations. Firstly, you have killed those not on the To-Die List. Secondly, you used a death scythe that was not approved or registered. Finally, you attempted to leak classified information to save your life.” William listed in a bored tone before finally stepping off of Grell’s head. “I apologize for any trouble this wretch may have caused.” He said flatly, offering a short bow to Sebastian and Celine. “Please, accept my card.” It was extended to Sebastian in the scissor like death scythe, and her demon took it, expression blank. “Really, I never thought I’d see the day where I needed to bow to noxious filth like you,” William muttered, glancing up and sending a disdainful look at Sebastian. “It’s a disgrace to the profession of a grim reaper.” 

Sebastian had the indecency to look pleased and amused. “Then by all means, keep a better control over your staff so that they don’t cause trouble for ‘noxious filth’ such as myself.” He tossed aside the reaper’s business card. Celine had half a mind to order Sebastian to get the information on who had killed her parents out of the new reaper, no matter what the cost, but he continued on before she could interject.

“You appear leashed, so you are less of a beast than some of your fellows.” William said curtly, adjusting his glasses and glancing backward at Celine, who was still crouched next to Madam Red’s corpse. He then sighed and stooped to grab a handful of Grell’s hair. “Come along, Sutcliff. If we weren’t shorthanded enough, you had to go and make such a mess,” he muttered, dragging her along toward the mouth of the alley. 

With a hint of a smirk, Sebastian threw Grell’s scythe, which was still in his hand, directly at the back of William’s head. The reaper caught the weapon between two fingers without hardly having to turn and glance at it. “You forgot that,” Sebastian said innocently, offering the administrator an eyes-closed smile. William’s eyes narrowed briefly in response.

“Thank you,” He said curtly, letting it fall onto Grell’s chest, making her wheeze. “Now, if you would please excuse me.” William added shortly. As he walked, dragging Grell, they seemed to disappear into the darkness until they vanished entirely.

“I apologize.” Sebastian said as he turned and walked back to Celine. “I allowed the second half of Jack the Ripper to escape.” 

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Celine said softly, eyes still fixed on the corpse of her aunt. Her rage had dissipated, leaving her cold and empty. She didn’t even move or tell Sebastian off as he raised a slightly bloody hand and pressed the back of it to her cheek.

“You are chilled, Mistress. Let us return to the townhouse. I will fix you warm milk with honey,” he said, all business, as if the events of the evening hadn’t unfolded at all. Celine found it oddly soothing. If her butler was unruffled, then she needed to be as well. Nodding her silent acceptance, Celine stood and instantly staggered on numb legs. If not for Sebastian catching her with a surprised, “My Lady!” she would have fallen right over. The chill that had settled in her bones suddenly seeped into her heart. “My Lady, are you-!” Sebastian stopped talking, baffled and surprised, when Celine locked her knees and swatted him away.

“I am fine. I can stand by myself.” She said sharply, retreating behind her walls and using her burning hatred as fuel. She wasn’t grieving for the woman her aunt had been if she was consumed with a need for revenge. 

“My Lady,” Sebastian said quietly after a moment, watching her carefully. 

“There is nothing further to be said.” Celine cut him off, tone icy. She didn’t want his pity or his help now— it would only be a weakness she’d regret later. “Let’s go.”

“Of course, Mistress,” Sebastian visibly swallowed whatever he was going to say. Celine stiffened, but let him put a hand at the small of her back as they left the alley.

[][][][][][][]

Seeing his Mistress cloaked in black was oddly fulfilling for Sebastian. The black lace of the gown, and the quiet, dangerous air it amplified in Celine’s demeanor was satisfying to see. She had stopped lashing out, which was a relief. Now she was just quiet. 

As she carried the red gown and strode purposefully for the doors of the church, Sebastian felt her soul both strengthen and turn more bitter all at once. 

For some reason, it was wholly unappetizing. 

He watched her stride past Edward Midford. She barely spared him a glance. Celine walked right up to the coffin, perched on the edge, and spread the scarlet gown over her aunt as she had with her butler’s coat not days before. “Plain white dresses did not suit you in life, and they don’t in death either.” He heard his Lady say softly. “Red, passionate red suited you best.” The wind caught the thousands of red rose petals Celine had ordered, sending them spiraling through the church. As the mourners murmured excitedly, watching them dance in the high apse of the church, Edward joined Celine, touched her shoulder, and said something that Sebastian couldn’t hear. 

He stiffened when Celine did, but before he could think about going into the church to send Edward Midford a warning glare, Celine was already getting up and leaving. She briefly took a knee in the first pew, blessing herself, but then she was striding back out of the church. Much to Sebastian’s dismay, Edward followed. 

“Celine, _wait.”_ He begged, catching her wrist as the doors of the church shut behind them. Her spine seemed to get impossibly tight, and Sebastian felt her soul twist with additional anguish.

“A moment please, Sebastian.” She said softly.

He almost objected. This conversation was clearly not going to end well, and every interaction she had with her former fiancee left her angry and sad for days. If he was lying to himself, he would insist that he only wanted to avoid her foul temperament when she was upset, and that it had a negative affect on the essence of her soul that was unappetizing. If he was being truthful, it was because he didn’t want her to be hurt anymore.

Still, an order was an order, and he didn’t have to go far. He offered a short bow in acquiescence before striding out of the church yard and waiting at the street. It was standard privacy by humans standards, but he would still hear every word spoken.

“Celine, please, just listen.” Edward said immediately when he thought Sebastian was out of earshot. “I know that you hate me. I know that I’ve hurt you, probably beyond repair, and I’ll never stop paying for that sin. But please, _please_ let me help you.”

“I don’t need help.” Celine said quietly, flatly.

“I— _yes,_ you do!” Edward argued, and held her hand tight. “You’ve endured more sorrow than any human was ever meant to. I know how important Aunt was to you. Please, come stay at my estate for a few days. You shouldn’t be alone right now, and Mother would love to see you again after all this time.”

“Do you know who else was important to me?” Celine asked with surprising viciousness, pulling free of his hand. “ _You_ , Edward. You meant everything to me. Now I can’t so much as be seen in public with you without spurring gossip. You—you threw me aside like a harlot, Edward! Did you even _grieve_ for me, or were you already shopping for a new bride?!” 

“Celine,” Edward choked out, looking heartbroken. 

“I’d lost so much. When I made it back the only thing I wanted was a shell of what I’d had before. A sense of normalcy when my world had been destroyed.” Celine was shaking now, each word sharp and painful. “I wanted you. Now every second I spend with you is painful because I have lost you too. I’ve lost _everyone.”_ She adjusted her black glove, eyes welling with tears. “So no, Edward. I will not be spending time at your estate. Give my best to your family and your wife.” She said after a moment, voice flat and perfectly polite, her emotions shoved away once more.

She left him standing there, staring after her with grief as she walked away. Sebastian made sure to glare at him as he crossed the short distance left to Celine. “To the cemetery.” She requested as they arrived at the carriage.

“My Lady,” he dared to object. He could see how much pain she was in.

“To the cemetery, Sebastian. Do not make me ask again.” Celine threatened, eye burning like the fires of Hell. In response, Sebastian swallowed his suggestion on going back to the estate and instead went to man the carriage.

Celine was surprisingly soft in the cemetery. She’d bought a beautiful plot and headstone for the last prostitute killed, Mary Kelly. The one she could have saved but didn’t, all in the vain hope that her aunt would see reason before it was too late. It was just another reminder of the human weakness that lay within her, no matter how hard she tried to deny it. Even when her aunt had been strangling her, Celine hadn’t gone for her hidden pistol to defend herself. 

It seemed as if every person she placed her love and trust in either died, failed her, or both.

For a demon, he suddenly felt a very strong urge to make sure that the trend wouldn’t continue.

 


	8. Edward Midford

_It seemed as if every person she placed her love and trust in either died, failed her, or both. For a demon, he suddenly felt a very strong urge to make sure that the trend wouldn’t continue._

_[][][][][][][][]_

Sebastian suppressed the urge to kill the man standing before him, but just barely. He’d heard a horse coming up the drive and had naturally gone to the door to evaluate the danger of this unannounced visitor. Upon discovering that the man riding rapidly up the drive was none other than Edward Midford, he briefly weighted the pros and cons of sending him to his mortal end.

“Sir!” Edward panted, dismounting from his horse although it had not yet stopped completely. He  half jogged up to Sebastian, eyes wide with panic. “Sir, I beg you, I must see Celine!”

“And if she does not want to see you?” Sebastian asked loftily, trying not to outwardly bristle with dislike. Why this _child_ had agreed to marry while still in mourning for a woman he’d loved since birth evaded him. Celine was utterly unique, and yet Midford had tried to replace her with someone so _simple_. It disgusted him, how little value he’d had for his Mistress, even in her ‘death’.

“I beg an audience. I—I am hopeless without her. Please, sir.” Edward sounded choked up, which only served to disgust Sebastian further. Bothering Celine with this would only serve to depress her, and as her butler he refused to cause her unnecessary emotional distress. 

“I am sorry, sir, but I must insis-,”

“No, _please!_ I—I have to! Please, I must speak to Celine! It’s urgent!” Edward cried, holding to Sebastian’s lapel in the depths of his fervor. “I do not wish to cause her further harm, but I have no other choice!”

“Sir, if you wouldn’t mind.” Sebastian said curtly, daring to let his eyes flash, just once. It usually never failed to make humans reconsider, feeling a prickle of danger. Edward was no such man.

“If I have to, sir, I will fight you!” Edward’s eyes shone with determination, grief, and fear; the perfect combination to lead to desperate, crazed decisions. Usually, as a demon, he pounced on that kind of behavior. Now, all he wanted was to snap the man’s neck.

“Sebastian, what on earth is all that racket?” To Sebastian’s horror, he heard Celine, curious and exasperated, on the staircase. “I was unaware we had gue-,”

“Celine!” Edward shoved his way in, letting go of Sebastian, to approach his former fiancee. Celine froze on the stairs at the sight of Edward Midford, one foot still lowered to descend. “Celine, please, I beg you,” He began, closing the distance between them. 

“Sebastian,” Celine said sharply, and he gladly took the boy’s arm to draw him to a halt. He barely resisted yanking hard, breaking the limb or even ripping it from the young knight’s body. 

“Celine, _please._ I know that you cannot stand the sight of me, but I need your help!” Edward cried, digging in his heels when Sebastian gave him a pointed tug to get him moving towards the door. Celine hesitated. She had truly never seen Edward so distraught and desperate, and the part of her that still loved Edward deeply made her wonder, made her pause. The bitter, angry part of her wanted him to be alone when he needed her so desperately, so that he could begin to understand what she felt. In the end, the love won. 

“Sebastian,” Celine said quietly, and, with effort, the demon stopped towing Edward Midford to the door. He stiffly let go of him, but shot him an icy glare when he made to step forward again. 

“Celine, I do not come here with the intent to harm you, although I know that I inadvertently will do so. If I truly had any other hope or choice I would not burden you further.” Edward said, sounding strained. To Celine’s discomfort and yet vicious satisfaction, he sank first to one knee, and then to the other. “I beg you; please, help me. Samantha is missing.”

“Edward, stop.” Celine could barely say it. The sight of him, pale and upset and _begging_ on his knees made her hate-filled soul roar with satisfaction. He, who had hurt her so much, was now pleading with her. However, she had memories, happy memories of growing up with Edward, knowing him better than he knew himself. That Edward, compared to this one, made her heart clench, until she couldn’t stand to see him this way, no matter how much she’d thought she would desire something like that. 

“She was snatched from her parent’s townhouse in London just this morning.” Edward hadn’t heard her; he was so focused on his desperation that nothing else was registering. “There is nothing out of place at the estate; not a single clue left behind.”

“Rise, Edward,” Celine said more clearly, but Edward still wasn’t listening.

“I know that you must loathe the sight of her as you do the sight of me. I can never take that pain away, but surely you understand that Samantha has done nothing wrong! She is innocent of what lies between us-,”

“ _Edward!”_ Celine forced out, his name echoing a bit in the large entrance hall. It was loud enough to silence him. “Get off your knees. Never, _ever_ grovel to me again.” Celine turned her face away from the half enticing, half wounding sight. She was afraid that she liked seeing him that way, hurt because he was hurt, and still so bitter about what she could have had. 

“I—I am sorry, Celine.” Edward’s words were twisted with sorrow as he got gracefully back to his feet. “It seems that no matter what I do I harm you.”

“I will help you, Edward, on one condition. You will never come uninvited to this estate ever again.” Celine was sure she would not be able to handle such a visit again. Even seeing Edward for the sake of an emergency made her feel shaky and vulnerable. Not even Sebastian’s presence helped.

“I promise; I swear.” Edward said seriously, voice upset. Having to further torment Celine, the woman he loved deeply, to save the life of his wife, a woman he had a great amount of respect and love for, made his own soul twist. 

For a moment, the air hung around the three of them, heavy with sorrow and tension. Finally, Celine lifted her head and addressed the two men. “Sebastian, please bring a pot of tea up to my study. Edward, follow me.”

“My Lady,” Sebastian interjected without thinking, voice sharper than usual. 

“Do you doubt me, Sebastian?” Celine asked very quietly, reaching up to touch her eyepatch. Her real question was clear: _Do you doubt the contract?_

What could he say, with Midford standing there, watching the exchange with sad curiosity? Furthermore, why was he acting like this in the first place? His duty was to protect from bodily harm only. There was no doubt that there was hatred and bitterness and a want for revenge in Celine Rachel Phantomhive; he had no reasons to doubt her, not one. “My apologies. I will bring the tea shortly.” He forced a flat, cordial smile before heading to the kitchen. He felt Celine’s eyes on him the whole way. 

Why was she staring after him? Celine blinked, glancing away from the stiff, angry retreat her demon was making to focus on Edward. The concern in his face, that pure, good heart, almost made her cringe. “This way,” She invited, turning around and going back up the stairs. Edward followed silently, although he knew her estate like his own, and vice versa. Growing up and spending months in each other’s homes, had left lingering nostalgia in Edward Midford for the Phantomhive estate. How Celine had been able to recreate the mansion after the fire was beyond him, but he had never been so relieved to walk the familiar halls. Celine let him get the door to the study, and she strode in and behind her desk.

“Why have you not contacted Scotland Yard?” Celine asked.

“I have learned plenty over the years from you and your father.” Edward answered. “I know better than to put my trust in the Yard. If Samantha truly is in danger, they will never be able to help her in time. I need someone who works outside the law, Celine. I need _you._ ” 

“Then you must tell me everything. Every detail you can think of, and your suspicions as well. Anything that has seemed odd to you over the past few weeks. If there is truly no sign of struggle or of who may have taken your wife, this was a well planned and executed kidnapping.” 

A knock on the door, and then Sebastian was there, setting down a tray and taking off two fragile china cups. “How do you take your tea, Lord Midford?” He asked. To someone who had only met Sebastian on occasion, the butler sounded perfectly composed and polite. To Celine, he sounded downright vicious. Her demon had an incredible ability to appear and sound unflustered and unruffled, but she could see through that guise now. His irritation and dislike could be seen in the flick of his wrist, the line of his arm. She was confused; why was Sebastian acting this way? If Edward was a threat, he would have made that known, disarmed him, or killed him. So why the standoffish behavior? Something had her normally stoic demon rattled. 

“Cream, no sugar. I—thank you, Sebastian.” Edward sounded sad and distracted. He was watching the butler pour Celine’s tea, which was mostly sugar with a splash of tea added. She had always had a sweet-tooth, ever since she was a child. Seeing her taste for sugar again made him even more sad than he’d been before. “Your tea. All sugar, no liquid.” Edward said quietly, fondly, as Celine picked up the cup.

It was what her father used to say, teasing her, even though he took his tea almost the exact same way. 

“Your wife,” Celine reminded him quietly, bitterly. She could not soften. She could not allow herself to remember; it would hurt too much. 

“I—of course,” Edward seemed to swallow back something he wanted to say. “She’d been in the garden until it was apparent she was missing. There were no footprints in the grass, no disturbances to the lawn or to the table where she’d taken her tea. None of the hedges around the property fence showed signs of being crushed. There was a heavily perfumed handkerchief, but Samantha always perfumes her handkerchief in the morning.” Edward described, and Celine felt a pang of pity for how _naive_ Edward was.

“I doubt that the handkerchief was hers, or that it was perfume, Edward. It was most likely chloroform or laudanum.” 

“Those—those are for use by a physician!” Edward protested. “I don’t understand!”

“In controlled doses, they can treat anxiety and pain, yes. In an overwhelming dose, they can make a person lose consciousness.” Celine explained over the rim of her teacup, and Edward blanched. “Do not fear for your wife. The drugs have very few side-effects.”

“Good lord,” Edward said shakily. “I—I can’t think of anyone who would do such a thing!”

“What business is her father in?” Celine asked.

“Wine and spirits. Whiskey, mostly.” Edward said, and all of the puzzle pieces fell into place. 

“The Scottish have been angry that they are paying higher taxes on their independent breweries as compared to the English.” Celine said flatly, setting down her teacup. “English whiskey compared to Scottish whisky is hurting their exports. I am sure that the reason behind this abduction is because of her father’s ‘unfair’ profits.” Celine turned to Sebastian and said, “I believe we will need Ciel for this.”

“Very well,” her butler seemed hesitant to leave, his eyes narrowing and lingering on Edward before he went to make the preparations.

“Ciel? Is he in the liquor business?” Edward asked. 

“No. He is a powerful player in the underworld, a man of my own creation. I am Ciel.” Celine answered, standing. 

“You—you dress as a man?” Edward was astounded. “However do you pass as one, as beautiful as you are?” He froze at the compliment that slipped out, and Celine did also, a hand clenching on the back of her chair. “I—I apologize.” Edward covered his face, laughing weakly, bitterly. “It seems as if I cannot even—,”

“Say nothing, Edward. Let it be.” Celine warned, voice sharp. His compliment burned, made her throat tighten and her fingers shake. It would be so easy to imagine him calling her that, as he used to. “Wait here. I will not be long.” She strode out of the study, pace fast and tight. Upon rounding the corner, she nearly ran into Sebastian, who was standing there, a looming, dark presence, radiating anger and displeasure. Dark tendrils were literally seeping out of him, curling about the floor and up the walls. 

“Send him away.” It was not advice, it was an order. Her demon was utterly furious.

“Prepare my pistol.” Celine ignored his command, and when she went to step around him he suddenly pinned her to the wall, a hand pressed firm to the wallpaper next to her head. He towered over her, eyes flaring in the darkness he had created. For a moment, the tension was unbearable as she raised her chin and met his gaze with a  firm look of her own. “Sebastian, prepare my pistol.” She repeated, resting a few fingers on her eyepatch. His sudden loss of control was baffling, worrying. Why did he loathe Edward so much? Did he think that she would break their contract because of him? “You are mine until my revenge is had, Sebastian. Do as I say.” She added, voice soft but commanding.

After a moment, Sebastian stepped back, out of her space, and strode off down the hallway, the darkness following him like a billowing shadow. He was silent as Edward gaped at the sight of her in a man’s cheap, dirty suit, her hair stuffed under a cap, a bit of soot from a fireplace smeared on her cheek and nose. More soot was caked under her fingernails, which she had trimmed back to appear masculine. 

“Celine? My god!” Edward stared and stared. 

“The plan is simple,” She said, ignoring his shock as she checked her pistol for a chambered round. “You are Lord Donnelly, looking to purchase whisky and undermine your competitor, Lord Jameson. With your funds, you can work through the additional tax and offer the Scottish whisky at a lower price than the English whiskey. These men are clearly desperate, and will wish to talk business with you. While you discuss your business options, I will recover Samantha.”

“I cannot let you do that, Celine! The danger will be immense!” Edward protested, and he was lucky that his back was turned to Sebastian, because her demon’s eyes flared bright, the darkness starting to leech out again. 

“And if you call me Celine again and ruin this operation, we will never reach Samantha in time.” Celine snapped. “Do not treat me differently because I am a woman, Edward. You know that I am capable of protecting myself. The real person in danger in this scenario is you.”

“Me?” Edward blinked. “How?”

“If these men recognize you, they will instantly try to kill you. That is why Sebastian will remain by your side.” Celine lay out the last piece of her plan, and Sebastian had to suck in the glowing eyes, the darkness, and his fury as Edward turned to look at him, nervous and unsure. “Sebastian, I see Edward’s safety as an extension of my own. You will stay by him until his wife is safe. Do you understand?” Celine’s tone left no room for argument. She had never seen Sebastian look at her so _hatefully_ before. He knew that she knew that he did not approve, that he loathed every second that Edward Midford was under the roof of the Phantomhive mansion. 

“Yes, my Lady.” Sebastian said flatly. He turned without another word to bring round the carriage. 

[][][][][][][][]

“Celine, I—are you sure?” Edward asked nervously as they stepped out of the carriage and onto the street. Sebastian’s glare had only gotten more deadly as he stood behind Edward, which was making the young man quite nervous. He understood the butler’s protectiveness, however. If their positions were reversed, he wouldn’t want Celine near him either. 

“Do not call me that again,” Celine frowned at him. “And do not question me again either. Play your part, _Lord Donnelly,_ and I will play mine. You _do_ want her back, don’t you?” Without waiting for an answer, she turned and strode away. Celine navigated the dark, misty docks with ease until finding the storehouse for Scotsman brand whisky. As soon as she heard Edward and Sebastian out front, she picked the lock on a window and snuck inside. What she found was mazes of whisky barrels, and multiple little shacks inside the building that were clearly foreman offices. From the front of the massive storehouse, she could hear Edward talking, referencing that ‘Ciel’ had pointed him in the right direction.

The booming laugh that had followed and the warm welcome Edward then received spoke for itself, and Celine let herself feel a bloom of pride. Her reputation was her own, earned when she fought independently and ruthlessly from Sebastian. He was her sword and shield, but she herself was not incapable. She had worked hard to be respected as ‘Ciel’. It bothered her deeply to know that she would never earn the same respect as Celine, a woman, but she could still be proud of fooling everyone into thinking she was a man and forcing them to respect and fear her. 

Ears pricked for sounds, Celine ventured through the stacks of barrels to the first office. It was dark, the door locked. She picked the lock and searched the little office thoroughly, but found nothing. She repeated her skills on the second office, and then the third. Luck was finally on her side when the fourth door yielded the frightened, bound form of Samantha Jameson. Her eyes widened in fear at the sight of a ‘man’ in the doorway, pistol in hand. As quick as a cat, Celine tugged off her cap, letting her hair fall free to show that she was a woman, not a man. She shut the door behind her, plunging them into darkness once Samantha had looked at her warily, quizzically, at the reveal that she was a woman. “Samantha, I need you to stay calm, and stay quiet. Can you do that?” Celine asked softly, pulling the cloth tied between her lips free.

“ _Celine?_ Celine Phantomhive?” Samantha croaked, sounding astounded. “I—what-?”

“Samantha, you need to stay quiet.” Celine reminded her, voice calm, as she set to work untying her. “Edward is distracting them, but he won’t be able to keep their attention forever.” 

“Edward?” Samantha repeated hopefully as Celine helped her to her feet. 

“Edward is here, yes. I need you to stay very close to me.” She said firmly, taking Samantha’s hand. “If I tell you to do something, you need to do it immediately, whether that be run, or hide, or do something that scares you. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Samantha swallowed hard, audible in the darkness, and held Celine’s hand tight. Celine eased the door back open, alert for danger, and held her pistol steady in front of her, leading Samantha back the way they had come. As much as a part of her loathed the woman she was rescuing with every bone in her body, her safety was key to Edward’s happiness. Celine would fight and kill to protect that. When she heard voices, she froze, instantly shoving Samantha into the spot between two barrels and covering her, gun raised and ready. The voices were chatting about new business with ‘Lord Donnelly’, and how he’d be returning the next day to sign business contracts.

That meant that Edward and Sebastian had left, unable to stall for more time. 

“Samantha, go left down that space and up to the window. I am right behind you.” Celine said softly, voice tense. Thankfully, Samantha went without complaint, and moved almost silently. It was then that the men came around the corner, four of them. “Samantha, _run!”_ Celine ordered, and fired off her shots, one, two three.

One man down with a bullet in his throat. The next down, shot through the heart. The third took his bullet in the face, dropping like a rock from where he’d been towering over her. 

The fourth man slammed her wrist against the barrels of whisky, nearly making her drop the weapon. She kicked him hard in the leg, but couldn’t dislodge him and couldn’t pull her gun free. She squeezed off another shot when the man leaned over her, but it missed widely and cued him to slam her wrist again, this time making her drop the pistol to the floor. “You little _bitch,”_ the man growled, producing a handkerchief. He pressed it hard to her nose and mouth, and the overwhelming scent of chloroform was quick to make her hold her breath, kicking out at him again and again, struggling to make him pull back before she was forced to breathe in.

It didn’t work. By the time she was forced to gasp for air, stars flashing behind her eyelids, he was still there, grip never faltering. The deep gulp of chloroform made her hopelessly dizzy. No matter how hard she tried to turn her head away, the cloth followed. To her dismay, she could hear Samantha calling for help; she hadn’t run like she’d told her to. If she was hurt because of Celine’s inability to follow through, she would never forgive herself. Samantha meant a great deal to Edward, and Edward to her. 

The world was spinning into a black void, sounds getting fainter and fainter. She could feel how the man had to not only pin her now, but _hold_ her in place as well. Her knees were going limp, her fingers clamped around his wrist going slack as the chloroform did it’s job. Then, fresh air. There was a sick _snap_ noise of bone breaking, and then she felt herself being gathered in familiar arms. “My Lady!” It was Sebastian, upset. 

“ _Samantha!”_ She could hear Edward, and scrambling footsteps. 

Celine blinked sluggishly. She could see Edward kneeling on the floor, inspecting every inch of Samantha, weeping with relief. He was stroking her hair, her cheek. He checked her face, her body, for signs of wounds before gripping her to him, shaking. The utter love and relief in his expression made Celine’s stomach twist with longing and sadness. 

“—ady, are you alright?” Sebastian was still speaking, and a gloved hand turned and tilted her chin. Her butler, blurry and concerned, came into view. Surely her dizzy mind was inventing the worry in his expression?

“Mmm. M’sorry,” She slurred, remembering how angry she had made him. She didn’t want Sebastian to ever be upset, or angry, or hurt. Not ever, not if she could help it. Celine pressed her cheek into his palm, savoring the feeling of his linen glove giving way to skin in the hole cut along the palm, the fine stitching caressing her cheek. The feeling of utter safety draped over her like a warm blanket with Sebastian there. 

“Celine!” Samantha, blurry, but closer, and one of her hands was taking hers. “I—is she alright?” She sounded worried too, even through Celine’s dreamlike stupor. 

“She will be fine. The effects of chloroform will wear off soon enough.” Sebastian managed to sound cool and professional, even when his insides were screaming with rage. The other three men were lucky that Celine had killed them first, or he would have taken great pleasure in ripping them to pieces. His rage for Midford had faded- Celine had delivered what he wanted, and made him promise to never again come to the estate unless invited. That meant that he most likely would never have to see the boy’s face again, and neither would Celine. 

“I—thank you, Celine. Thank you.” Samantha turned to look at her husband lovingly, even through her exhaustion. “I owe you my life.” 

“Let us return to the carriage.” Sebastian suggested, stooping to collect Celine’s pistol. He took great care to make sure her head was resting against his shoulder and chest instead of hanging limp from his arm. The pang of alarm that he felt when Celine’s eyes fluttered closed nearly made him leap away at a demon’s speed to get her back to the Phantomhive estate, safe and sound, Edward Midford and Samantha Jameson be damned. 

“Please, drop us off at my London estate. There is no need to take us all the way back into the country. Celine needs a doctor.” Edward, damn him and his ridiculous gallant nature, said earnestly. The look he sent at Celine, worried and loving and _damn him to Hell_ made Sebastian’s ire at him reignite. That boy should have gotten the message by now, the message that Celine was no longer his. Celine would _never_ be his again.

“Let us move with haste,” was all Sebastian said, leading the way. Edward shed his jacket, tucking it around Samantha, and ushered her after him. Sebastian was quick to drop Edward and Samantha off, and then he was pulling into the Phantomhive London townhouse as fast as he dared, whisking Celine indoors. “My Lady?” He enquired, hoping to hear a dry and witty comment in return, but all he got was a soft moan in response. 

He lay her on the bed and took off her boots. Until the effects of the drug wore off, he was not going to leave her side. Propping up her back on some pillows, Sebastian fetched a tall glass of water. He knew from his hundreds of years of existence that chloroform could occasionally make a patient (or victim) nauseous. He coaxed Celine to sip the water, carefully looking for any signs of nausea, but saw none. 

It took him a long time to lower his demon instincts to normal levels. The sight of his Mistress, pinned, struggling to breathe, had nearly made him mad with fury. The thought of what might have happened to her after, spurned on by thoughts of the horrible things that _had_ happened to Celine, had only made his rage burn higher. She had nearly gotten hurt, gotten _violated,_ for the man that had hurt her the most, Edward Midford. The thought made his lips pull back in a silent snarl as he set the water aside. He had to admit it— he had grown dangerously attached to Celine Phantomhive. 

It was ludicrous, to think of prey in such a way. To admire a target’s quirks and bravery and beauty. To take joy in their pride and vanity and temper. To take strength from his prey’s strength. His kind was supposed to manipulate and steer their prey into misery, despair, and hatred, until their souls were dripping and juicy and ready to be taken. No demon had ever been so foolish to fall in love with their target, but Sebastian had never been an ordinary demon. He stroked the fringe from Celine’s face and tugged her eyepatch free. As soon as she opened her eyes, he wanted to see the seal, wanted to remind himself of what he was possibly forfeiting if he let his heart rule his head. 

“My Lady,” he tried to rouse her once more, voice a little strained, and Celine stirred, pressing into his hand again, giving a soft sigh when her cheek fit perfectly into his palm. However, she did not wake, and didn’t so much as stir when he stroked her hair again. It took great effort to move his hand away.

He’d never acted so recklessly. Sebastian suddenly didn’t care if he had to starve for the rest of his immortal existence; if it meant that he could stay with her, by her side, until the end of her natural life, Sebastian would be happy. He wanted to spend every moment with her, spoil her, make her smirk and smile and laugh with him. He wanted to protect her, see how soft she could be. He wanted to stand with her in a dark alley and watch her shoot a man in the kneecaps. 

She was dainty. She was fierce. She was intelligent. She was pain and hatred and bitterness, but also light and beauty and grace. 

 

And he wanted her more than anything he ever had before.


	9. Gunsmoke

_And he wanted her more than anything he ever had before._

 

_[][][][][][][][]_

 

_Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang._

_Click._

The clip was empty. Celine stood in the armory, a bag of bullets and her pistol at the ready. Despite her best efforts, her emotions were boiling over, bitter and sad and _lost._ She had been so happy to help Edward, to make him shine again, but then, even through a fog of chloroform, she’d seen him with Samantha. Seen how tender their reunion was. How _beautiful_ they were together. He’d held her so close, stroked the hair from her face, checked every _inch_ of her for damage. He’d embraced her like he never wanted to let her go. Edward had been so utterly thankful to get Samantha back. She jammed in another clip, took aim. 

_Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang._

_Click._

Out of bullets. Celine had drawn a blank silhouette onto of a large sheet of old newsprint and had pinned it to a log of wood meant for the hearth in her study. Her bullet holes were clustered in a tight circle over the spot where a man’s heart would be; each slug sank harmlessly into the wood, a target she could shoot again and again. Her mind turned to all the people she’d shot. She felt no remorse for the criminals, but the thought of Sebastian, and the blood on his face after she’d shot him, made Celine feel nauseous. Shaky fingers reached for a new clip, discharging the old one and adding in six more bullets. 

_Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang._

_Click._

Celine had never really cried for her lost family, for her lost life. She’d been too proud to during her confinement, and she’d always had the children to be solid for. She’d always had a disgusting human being to stand up to. Celine had always needed to be furious and untamable and ready to fight as long as she drew breath. After, she’d needed to be strong to rebuild her life, her reputation. She had a demon she’d leashed to her, a demon that needed to be trained in the ways of a butler and treated with caution. Celine had forced herself to continue on as normally as possible after Edward and Samantha had visited, and had forced herself to take Madam Red’s death in stride.

Her aunt had been right. She’d lost so much. 

_Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang._

_Click._

Even Samantha, as tired and in pain as she had been, had been sure to take a moment to reach for Celine’s hand, to thank her. The way she’d looked at Edward, with such utter love and devotion, only made it worse. Celine couldn’t be thinking this way, couldn’t be _longing_ for this! Edward was forever lost to her. The boy she’d grown up with, the young man she’d grown to love, and the man that she still desperately wanted had all been ripped away from her. She did not have him anymore. She had revenge to attain, the countless faces of children that haunted her dreams at night. She had hatred, her fuel that would never leave her and never run out.

_Bang. Bang. Bang._

A large, gloved hand closed around hers, stopping her from pulling the trigger again.  She hadn’t even realized she was crying until Sebastian was there. Silently, he used one gloved finger to swipe moisture from her cheek. He pulled the gun from her fingers and set it carefully aside. Sebastian was a warm, grounding presence as he stopped before her, his hand resting on her shoulder, a gentle touch.

She had something else, Celine realized. Her mother would chide her, if she was still alive, for not seeing it sooner. 

She had Sebastian, and not just in the sense that he was her demon, contract bound to help her. She had Sebastian, who had objected to her helping Edward. She had Sebastian, who had been so frantic to see her slumped on the floor. She had Sebastian, who had helped her and nursed her and treated her with equal respect. Aside from their first night together, Celine had never felt like his prey. The way they looked at each other, competed with each other, moved harmoniously with one another, bantered together, pushed each other…it was all real. She could read his amusement, his irritation, his determination. If this was part of Sebastian’s overarching plan to lower her defenses and make her an easier meal, Celine didn’t care. She felt like she could _trust_ him when she didn’t even trust herself. If that made her weak, she suddenly didn’t care anymore. 

When he stepped close, she mirrored him, standing between his feet. The space they shared together felt like the safest spot in the world. She leaned into him, wrapping her arms about his waist and pressing her face into the soft, clean wool of his vest. He was warm, he was solid, he was _real._ He wasn’t going to die, or disappear, or make her feel as if she was imploding. He wouldn’t betray her, wouldn’t hurt her. It was odd that the one creature in the world who was going to eventually eat her soul was the one that made her feel the most at ease. 

His hand on her shoulder slid, his arm encompassing her back to hold her against him. There was no escape then, but she didn’t want to step away. His other hand rested on the back of her head, protective and gentle. She could already tell that he would never mock her for this, never remind her of the quiet moment they’d shared in her moment of weakness. He had chosen to help her, and that was that.

In his arms, she could almost forget Edward, his desperation, and how he struggled to hide that he still loved her. She could almost let go of her bitter sorrow upon seeing him reunited with his wife. She could almost hate herself a little less for helping Edward even when she knew that it would bring her more misery. Their happiness, their relief, their beautiful, shining relationship made Celine want to scream and cry…but not when she had Sebastian. 

When her back stopped shaking, Sebastian slowly let go of her head and stroked that hand down her cheek when she stopped pressing her face into his front. A finger skipped down her jawline, lifted her chin higher so that their eyes locked. His eyes blazed, a fiery wine, as he hooked the digit under her eyepatch, tugging it free and letting it flutter carelessly to the floor.  She opened her eye so that the seal was exposed to his gaze, and the fingers on her chin tightened a little. The demonic glow of his eyes didn’t scare her; she read no hatred or anger or hunger there. Instead, there was _passion_. His hand rested on her cheek, the arm around her waist cinching just a little bit tighter. One of her hands left his waist, traveled up his shoulder across his chest. Delicate fingertips traced his jawline. 

The air was charged, tinged with gunsmoke and something else as she ran her fingers down his cheek, stroking his cheekbone. The demon before her had seen so much, knew so much. Surely her pride and vanity and _weakness_ irritated him, but he never showed any sign of it. He was patient, and tough when she needed it, gentle when she was coming close to breaking. He was strong and soft, wicked but sweet. She could spend the rest of her days trying to understand Sebastian, and yet she felt as if she would never succeed. He was an oxymoron, a mystery. Even now she had to look deep to read his expression: thoughtful, open, concerned…fondness? _Love?_

Before she could process that, in an instant, their moment shattered. “Mr. Sebastian? Are you up here?” It was Bard, sounding nervous in the hallway. “I, uh, I may have burned the Mistress’ lunch…again.”

In less than a second, Sebastian had stepped away, removing himself from her touch. He busied himself with unloading her pistol, producing a cloth from nowhere to buff it clean. “I am here, Bardroy.” He replied, tone perfectly even. Only Celine could hear the undercurrent of tension in his voice. The way he refused to look at her, his shoulders rigid, made her stomach quake.

“What’s this I hear about you burning my lunch, Bard?” Celine forced herself to sound airy and teasing, and she heard Bard yelp with fright in the hallway. Celine stooped to reclaim her eyepatch, and Sebastian tied it for her when she held the patch in place. His hands hesitated behind her once the eyepatch was secured, as if they wanted to rest on her shoulders and back. Celine hesitated too, half hoping he would, before she turned to go, removing his chance to touch her again. However, she rested her hand on Sebastian’s arm for just a brief moment on her way out into the hall. 

Her cook was looking suitably nervous, rubbing the back of his head. “I—I’m sorry, I really am!” He spluttered. “You hired me as a cook but I know nothin’ about it!”

“You have nothing to fear, Bardroy.” Sebastian exited the armory, shooting Bard a ‘smile’ that would make a lesser man cower. “I will take care of it. Perhaps another round of instruction on how to cook _without_ the use of pyrotechnics will help you?” He wasn’t offering, he was ordering. The sudden ominous doom Bard felt, as if he’d interrupted something very important, nearly made him beg the surprisingly terrifying butler for mercy. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Bard. Remember, I tolerate questions, but not failure. Never be afraid to try again.” Celine reassured him as Sebastian offered her a short bow and marched away. 

“Thank you, Mistress!” He perked up, waved hastily, and followed the butler out of sight. When they were out of even a demon’s earshot, Celine let out a slow breath, leaning against the armory door. Stunned, she looked blankly at the wallpaper opposite her and absentmindedly touched her jaw where Sebastian’s fingers had been just moments before.

 

What….what had just happened? And why did she want it to happen again?

 


	10. If

_What….what had just happened? And why did she want it to happen again?_

 

_[][][][][][][][]_

 

Sebastian maintained a professional distance after their interrupted moment in the armory. He had never seemed so bland and apathetic to her before. Baths were brisk and unfeeling. Dressing her was swift and distant. Mealtimes were silent and almost dismissive. Celine mulled over what had nearly happened in her mind, over and over. He had initiated, and she’d matched him step for step, without thinking. 

Theoretically, if she tried to initiate, would he match her, or dismiss her? Did she _want_ to initiate?  What distressed her the most was that she had _seen_ the sincerity, the softness, in Sebastian’s expression. He was a brilliant actor, but she could see through him now. He had _wanted_ it. Why? Why would he want her, as flawed as she was? Why would he feel attraction, desire, for his _meal?_ There was no getting around the fact that he would inevitably consume her soul. Why would he love something he was only ever meant to consume? Did demons do that? Did loving her make eating her soul taste all the sweeter?

Did he still _want_ to eat her soul? Logically, she had to say yes. Her demon had to be hungry, starving even. Demons needed sustenance too. Some silly affection couldn’t possibly make him consider _not_ eating her soul. Even if he did, even if he decided that he no longer wanted her soul, did that forfeit the contract? Would he leave? Would her revenge be no longer attainable?

Her mind was too busy with buzzing about Sebastian for her to focus on her responsibilities as a lady should. She tried to fill her thoughts with managing her company, launching new products. She tried to not think of him by tightening her control on the underworld. She threw herself into lessons, into work, but nothing seemed to help.

Therefore, when Samantha Jameson (Midford? She refused to think of her that way) wrote her to invite her to tea, Celine accepted the invitation, even though it was at Edward’s parent’s home. She could see the visible surprise and suspicion in Sebastian’s face, in his movements, when she told him to send correspondence of her acceptance. He had clearly assumed that she would not be attending, and he clearly did not want her to go. His movements were stiffer than usual when he laced her into a navy tea dress with lace. The corset, a cream color, made her look young and innocent. 

If his hands lingered, just briefly, on her waist, she didn’t say anything and neither did he. 

 

[][][][][][][]

 

“ _Celine!”_ Edward’s younger sibling, Elizabeth, was like a sister to Celine. She hadn’t seen her since Madam Red’s funeral, and she hadn’t stayed long enough to get more than a glimpse of the young girl. As soon as she was out of her carriage, Elizabeth was there, hugging her tight enough to make her stagger. “I—I am so glad to see you! I missed you _so much!”_ Elizabeth sobbed.

“I missed you too, Elizabeth. Can you forgive me for not seeing you sooner?” She asked, hugging the girl back. She offered her an apology, even though it was obvious why Celine hadn’t come to call on the Midford Estate after her return. Visiting, after what Edward had unknowingly done, would cause gossip and tension that Celine had wanted desperately to avoid. 

“Of course I can! I’m just so glad you’re okay!” Elizabeth blinked up at her, her green eyes smarting with tears. “Edward said you’ve been so sad lately,” Elizabeth said softly, sadly, reaching for Celine’s eyepatch.

“Elizabeth,” The Marchioness said sharply, appearing, and Elizabeth stopped, sending Celine a weak smile in apology, letting go. 

“There’s no reason for that. It is wonderful to see you again, Aunt Francis. I offer you the same apology I offered Elizabeth; I should have come to call sooner.” Celine curtsied low, absorbing Elizabeth’s words without a single outward sign of the hurt that boiled up within her. She was torn, torn in two. She wanted to make him suffer, make him feel guilty, and yet she never wanted him to feel pain ever again.  The same went for his family, as they were equally to blame.

“And as my daughter said, we are simply relieved that you returned to us, Celine.” Her normally frosty aunt said warmly, actually offering her a smile. Celine was relieved to see it. Even with Edward brought up, her aunt wasn’t rejecting her, trying to talk about Edward, or god forbid asking her to leave. “Do come in— I, my word!” Aunt Francis glanced behind her, at Sebastian, and asked sharply, “Is this _slovenly_ butler yours?”

“Slovenly?” Celine objected. “I do not find him so, but yes, this is my butler, Sebastian.”

“My Lady,” Sebastian murmured in greeting to the Marchioness, bowing low.

“Gracious, where is Tanaka? He would never be so uncivilized.” Aunt Francis scowled at Sebastian. “What an inappropriate image you present! That fringe, sir, is beneath the Phantomhive name.”

“Aunt, please,” Celine tried and failed to hide a bemused and amused smile as her orderly aunt produced a comb from nowhere, advancing on poor Sebastian. Aunt Francis ignored her, and in moments Sebastian’s hair was slicked back, not a hair out of place. With his fringe out of the way, Celine couldn’t help but admire the structure of Sebastian’s face, the height of his cheekbones. 

“I suppose that will do. Really, Celine, you should place higher standards on your staff.” Aunt Francis surveyed Sebastian’s new style with an approving, stiff nod. Sebastian was standing there as humbly as possible, clearly uncomfortable and baffled with her stringent aunt. She really should have warned him, she supposed, but hadn’t known for sure if the Marchioness would even agree to see her after the breaking of her betrothal to Edward. 

“Come on, Samantha is in the parlor!” Lizzie took Celine’s hand, bouncing a bit in her excitement. Her sweetness never failed to melt some of the hatred in Celine’s heart.  She could hear her aunt following, drilling Sebastian with questions, suspicious as to who he was and what his duties entailed. It was her way of showing that she still cared about her wellbeing, which was a relief. The Midfords had been like a second family, and Celine deeply missed the happiness and safety she’d once had with them. No matter how watchful her aunt was, no matter how sweet and concerned Elizabeth became, and no matter how badly Celine wanted it all back, she knew that she never could. 

Aunt Francis asked a pointed question about Celine’s health, and she forced herself not to listen anymore as Sebastian started a lengthy answer in his low baritone.  She could pick out the words ‘strong’ and ‘delicate’ and ‘recovery’. At the same time, she could sense Sebastian’s eyes on her back again, could practically _feel_ his gaze sweep over her, from head to foot, checking her carefully. He’d been doing that ever since she’d been nearly overpowered in the whisky storehouse, and she couldn’t say that it bothered her. To know that she was cared for was oddly relaxing. 

“Samantha was so happy that you said yes!” Lizzie chirped as they walked along, drawing Celine from her thoughts. “She was so grateful after you saved her!”

“I was happy to accept her invitation,” Celine lied. She couldn’t truthfully say that she wanted to go, but she wanted Edward to be happy, even if that meant driving the knife in further between them. “Have you been keeping up with your fencing?”

“Oh, yes!” Elizabeth beamed. “Edward doesn’t like it when I beat him, but Samantha loves to watch!” The thought of the tiny yet ferocious Lizzie beating Edward at dueling in front of his wife was too amusing not to laugh at. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed so honestly, especially when thinking of Edward. She could feel Sebastian’s eyes on her at the sound. 

“I will have to resume my lessons as well. I’m afraid I have neglected my swordplay quite a bit.” Celine admitted. 

“Oh! Mother, will you train Celine again? That way we can practice together!” Elizabeth asked brightly, turning to glance back at her mother. 

“Neglecting your lessons?” Aunt Francis repeated, frowning. “Honestly. What kind of estate are you running, sir?” She glared at Sebastian, who had the unusual decency to look apologetic.

“I was not in a position to train for a long time, Aunt. If you will have me, I would love to sharpen my skills once more. No other instructor in all of England is as formidable as you.” Celine saved her butler from another reaming; it wasn’t his fault that her side, infected from the brand, had kept her from most physical activity for weeks. After that, she’d been focused on other things: languages, her company, regaining her titles. Swordplay had fallen to the wayside, especially when she proved that she could defend herself by other means. 

“Hmm. Then I suppose it is my duty. We cannot let a young Lady who serves the Queen be so incapable.” Her aunt agreed as the reached the parlor. Elizabeth ignored the servant standing there and opened the door, tugging Celine through. 

“Samantha, Samantha, Celine is here!” She sang, bouncing over. 

“Celine!” Samantha looked as beautiful and pure as ever as she hastily rose from the table, offering her a low curtsy. She also looked surprised but pleased that Celine had actually come. “I-I am so delighted you came!”

“I had to see for myself that you had fully recovered,” Celine curtsied in return and let Elizabeth tow her to a chair. “I am very grateful to see that you came out of such an ordeal unharmed.”

“She likes her tea with a lot of sugar, no cream!” Elizabeth told the estate’s butler brightly. “All sugar, no liquid, right, Celine?”

Her question, so bright and happy, still made Celine’s insides twist with sadness. She could imagine what her life would have been like- she would have been by Edward’s side, and he by hers. They would have Lizzie, a shining spot in a world of darkness. Her parents and Edward’s would still be able to call upon one another, to be happy. Holidays would have been serene, birthdays joyful. It was more likely than not that she would have born him children.

No longer.

“What a sharp memory you have, Lizzie,” Celine tried her best to shove the sadness down, offering her a smile. “Although I doubt my tea could ever be as sweet as you.” 

Elizabeth blushed and beamed at the attention, and Samantha Jameson’s smile was soft, but Celine felt ugly and marred. She did not belong in this sunlit parlor with beautiful people. She could feel Sebastian’s eyes on her; he could sense her sadness, her discomfort. Beneath her eyepatch, the contract seal on her eye pulsed. It was surprisingly painful, and she just managed not to touch the spot.

As sad as it made her, having tea with Samantha, Lizzie, and Aunt Francis worked to put Sebastian from her mind. Lizzie chatted excitedly about her lessons, about how beautiful the garden looked. Her mother watched her, both stern and fond, and made polite inquires into Celine’s company. When Elizabeth brought up her newly betrothed, a Matthew, the Marchioness ridiculed her so sharply that Elizabeth’s eyes actually grew shiny with tears.

“Whatever is the matter, Aunt Francis?” Celine asked, baffled. She knew the woman was strict, but she’d never seen her been so severe with her youngest before.

“Matthew is my younger brother, Celine.” Samantha said quietly, and suddenly Celine understood the Marchioness’ reprimand. The families were marrying into one another, Samantha and Edward, Lizzie and Matthew. It made perfect sense, but it twisted the knife, shoved it in deeper. The family she’d been born to become a part of was now well and truly lost from her. She had still considered the Midfords to be in-laws, even though she had never married in. 

“Now, Elizabeth, don’t cry,” Celine said softly, offering Lizzie her handkerchief. “You have no reason to be upset. If he is any bit as kind as his sister, you and Matthew will be very happy together.” She could hear how fast Aunt Francis breathed in, shocked by her answer. This was just another slight against Celine, even if it wasn’t intentional, and Celine wasn’t known for taking that kind of disrespect lying down. The Marchioness had been right to keep the news from her as long as possible.

“Really? You think so? You’re not…mad?” Elizabeth asked, hiccuping a little. 

“No, Elizabeth. I could never be angry with you.” Celine said firmly. The anguish in her twisted, making her insides burn and cramp. “You keep that,” She added when Elizabeth tried to offer her handkerchief back. The seal, under her eyepatch, pulsed again and she couldn’t hide her grimace. Her instinct to touch the fabric, a knee-jerk to reaction to the pain, was too powerful to ignore. 

“Are you alright?” Samantha was alarmed. “Celine, you look awfully pale all of a sudden.”

“Completely.” Celine tapped into deep, inner strength and shot her a believable smile, dropping her hand. “Now, I’ve heard that your family is in the business of wine and spirits?”

They made polite conversation about the whiskey her family was famous for, Elizabeth dried her tears, and Celine stuffed her pain down, deeper and deeper, until they were saying their goodbyes. All three of them hugged her instead of offering a curtsy, and Celine bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying. 

Then, it was her and Sebastian in a silent carriage back to the Phantomhive Estate. He didn’t say a word until he was following her into the manor. “I do not know why my Lady insists on punishing herself in such a fashion, but I will not allow it to happen again.” He spoke lightly, as if referring to a mistake in her Latin translation, not as if he was vowing to keep her from doing something, as if he gave the orders and not her. 

Celine stopped walking, and Sebastian did as well. 

“I have connections to maintain, Sebastian. As satisfying as it would be to throw the Midfords and Samantha Jameson away, they are too valuable for that.” Celine forced herself to spin the meeting in her favor, voice empty.

“You’re lying.” Two large, warm hands rested on her shoulders, anchoring and comforting. 

“I find it interesting that you are objecting to my soul getting all the more anguished and blackened with hate,” Celine said softly, heart hammering. “I thought you would prefer it so.” The hands on her shoulders tightened, and Sebastian did not answer. Daring, Celine leaned back a little. She expected Sebastian to let go, to step back as a butler would, but he did no such thing. If anything, he drew her in closer yet. 

“They knew that your acceptance was a courtesy. That it would hurt you.” He spoke lowly, his rich voice full of tension. “You call those women family and yet they could not have been more cruel today.”

“They have seen me recovered, as polite as a Lady should be. Edward will stop prying now.” Celine could barely form the words. “And I would rather them be cruel than pretend as if what has happened never did.”

“You’d let them treat you like this?” Sebastian hissed, temper igniting. He’d spent the last few weeks tamping down his urges to approach Celine again. The way she was so tender in his grip, like prey, and yet so dangerous, was breathtaking. It took great effort everyday to maintain his professional, cool distance, as was proper. To hear her say that she would allow them to smear her name made his insides feel as if they were on fire. “Are you _giving in?”_ he whirled her around by the shoulders, turning their almost embrace into something a lot more sinister. He towered over her, eyes burning with a demon’s ire. “You are going to allow them to humiliate you?”

“You hypocrite.” Celine hissed with equal anger, rising up on her toes, chin coming up defensively. Her eye glared at him furiously. “When I first learned of Edward’s marriage you did not doubt me, or this contract. If ever you had a moment to feel a grievance against you, it was then. I _shot_ you and you did nothing. Would you care to explain why _now_ you choose to be offended?”

“How many Midfords will you let walk over you?” Sebastian growled, darkness starting to seep out of his form. 

“The Midfords are not responsible for the pain and humiliation I have suffered.” Celine bit out. “They did not murder my parents in their own home. They did not burn my estate to the ground. They did not kidnap, beat, and rape me. Until I find those who did and make them _suffer,_ your only concern is that of finding leads on who the culprit is. If you have evidence that the Midfords are guilty of this heinous crime, I would be delighted to hear it. If not, you have overstepped your bounds.” Celine’s voice positively snarled over the word ‘suffer’, and she tore her eyepatch off, slapping it onto his chest, fingers digging into his wool vest. “You see this seal, the one that you yourself placed upon me? I am still your prey.” She said bitterly. “If you doubt me now, why don’t you just _take it.”_

For one tense, fragile moment, they glared at one another, the air around them writhing with the dark energy leaking out of Sebastian. The predator in him longed to rise to her challenge, to take a hold of her beautiful neck and pull her soul from her body without a second thought. Her resistance, her fury, excited his urge to kill, to _feed._ His hand rose from her shoulder, spreading across her neck and arching up her chin. Celine did not resist. To the contrary; she arched her neck high and met his glare with hers unflinchingly. 

“You are worth more.” The words slipped out; he was hardly aware that he was saying them. However, once they were out in the air, he could not take them back or regret them. After a moment to realize what he’d said, her eyes widened, her fist tightening in his vest. His hand at her throat went back down to her shoulder, and then he had stepped aside, walking past her and into the manor. He didn’t want to think about what he’d said, and what it meant for them and the contract, as he did not know himself.

He should have known better. It didn’t matter what he wanted, for Celine had marched after him, skidding to a stop in front of him. He had never seen her look so passionate, so _alive._ “I don’t care if this is a strategy to consume my soul all the faster. I don’t _care_ if you or anyone thinks me weak for this. I—I have lost so much. I will _not_ apologize for this, not now, not ever.” She stepped close, very close, until he could feel the warmth of her body and hear her heartbeat as if it was his own. “You will look me in the eye and tell me right now if…” Her blaze of energy faded somewhat as she met his gaze.

“If?” He enquired softly, prompting, hoping.

“If you would enjoy another moment like we had in the armory.” Celine glanced away from him, slim fingers picking at her corset. “I do not require an explanation from you, Sebastian. As strange and improper as it is, I do not need a ‘why’ or a ‘how’. I simply wish to know if you truly enjoyed a moment of that nature.” 

It was oddly generous of her. He had never expected Celine, strong, stubborn, intelligent, prideful, _beautiful_ Celine to make herself vulnerable to him by choice. She was willing to overlook all of the questions she surely had in order to get the answer to just one. It was an incredibly brave thing for a woman who’s soul had already been the subject of such cruelty to do. If things didn’t go the way she had hoped, she would be devastated and forced to depend on someone who could and most likely would mock her for her moment of weakness until her revenge was attained. 

It was also a very kind thing for her to do. He didn’t have to attempt to explain how out of character, wrong, and _impossible_ his feelings for her had become. He didn’t have to humiliate himself with explanations. He hadn’t expected such kindness, seeing as he hadn’t received something so personal and loving in a very, very long time. 

When he raised a hand to touch her, she surprised him by seizing his wrist to stop him. “Your answer?” She prompted, a little more ice to her words. _That_ was the Celine he knew. She could put all of her emotions on the line without losing her head completely. She wouldn’t let him take advantage, and that made him proud. If a human stood a _chance_ against a demon, he’d almost want to see her fight. 

 

“I would enjoy many moments.” It felt as if all of the air in the room had been removed as he said it, but managing to say the words all became worth it when Celine _smiled._


	11. The Prince Soma Wager

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to DeathAngelRn for their incredibly kind words and their gentle nudges to make me actually work! I'm sorry this was short; work has been hard for me lately. I hope to write more soon!

_“If you would enjoy another moment like we had in the armory.” Celine glanced away from him, slim fingers picking at her corset. “I do not require an explanation from you, Sebastian. As strange and improper as it is, I do not need a ‘why’ or a ‘how’. I simply wish to know if you truly enjoyed a moment of that nature.”_

 

_“I would enjoy many moments.” It felt as if all of the air in the room had been removed as he said it, but managing to say the words all became worth it when Celine smiled._

 

_[][][][][][][]_

 

“What an utter waste of time,” Celine sighed, tucking deeper into her coat. She had received a letter from the Queen the asked her to address a recent string of muggings in the East End. It hadn’t taken her long, with Sebastian at her side, to pry the information out of Lord Arthur. She promptly solved the case right in front of him, had made sure to snub him, just a little, and had then walked away.

It brought Celine quite a bit of satisfaction to knock men like Lord Arthur down a peg or two. Rumors about her conduct had begun to spread in society. However, the thought that a _woman_ could possibly be so unsavory, even as a Phantomhive, had kept many from doubting her skills. One of those doubters had been Lord Arthur. He consistently tried to explain basic concepts to her, insisted that her ‘delicate constitution’ would bar her from discussing crime, and had made a point to insult her intelligence at every opportunity. As a Lady, she’d deflected his rudeness, but she could only tolerate so many blows to her pride without retaliation. She felt giddy every time, and she and Sebastian had shared many a smirk over insulting Lord Arthur.

“I would not write-off today’s business as a complete waste.” Sebastian said as he walked beside her. “Watching you denigrate Lord Arthur in front of a fellow officer was quite amusing.” He offered her a wink, enjoying the way a slight blush touched Celine’s cheeks. Since their moment after accompanying her to the Midford Estate for tea, Sebastian had been much more forward, as had Celine, and yet they had still respected certain boundaries. Sebastian would only wait so long, but he enjoyed holding back, playing the game slowly. He didn’t want to go in for everything all at once, not with Celine. He wanted to know and understand every inch of her mind and personality before discovering her body as well. 

Besides, his hunger aside, to think that _he_ would decide when they moved to more carnal acts was utterly ludicrous. He respected Celine much more than that, and had respect for her past and her feelings. If and when she chose to give him her body was her choice and hers alone. If and when she gave him that right would be one of the happiest days of his incredibly long life. To be worthy of someone like her was something he would wait lifetimes for. 

“My Aunt was right. You are utterly indecent.” Celine said airily, bringing him out of his thoughts and offering him a flash of a rare, sincere smile that was filled with amusement. 

“But of course.” Sebastian made no move to deny it, smirk growing closer to a full smile as Celine let out an amused huff at his boldness. 

“You there, noble Lady!” An accented voice, full of authority, made Celine stop and turn. Sebastian turned as well, and took in the sight of a man from India, clearly rich, and his bodyguard. The man was about the same age as Celine, but clearly had none of her grace and brilliance. “I am Prince Soma Asman Kadar of Bengal,” He offered Celine a flourishing bow, eyes sparkling with confidence. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Celine, to any one other than Sebastian, sounded perfectly polite and engaging, the perfect English noblewoman. However, Sebastian knew her better. She was utterly bored with the young Prince and probably wanted to do nothing more but turn on her heel and walk away from such an overly confident man. 

“Please, tell me your name, noble Lady.” The Prince requested, pressing a kiss to her hand as if she were the Queen. A flash of a frown pulled at Celine’s lip before she schooled her expression to another blank, polite look. She’d mastered the art of mimicking Sebastian’s fake, courteous expressions. 

“I am Countess Celine Phantomhive.” She answered flatly.

“My Lady Phantomhive. Celine. Please accept my invitation to dine with me. I must look upon your face again.” The Prince was overly dramatic, and clearly an idiot.

“I am afraid I must decline, Prince Soma. I have no interest in courtship. Pardon me.” Sebastian’s amusement knew no bounds as his Mistress denied the Prince with brutal indifference. She pulled her hand free, offered him another perfect curtsy, and strode away. The rest of their day passed uneventfully, and the Prince was soon forgotten. Celine took care of business matters and her estate, and wrote a long letter to the Queen detailing how she had put the muggings in the East End to rest. Sebastian prepared her for bed, as usual, but dared to press a lingering kiss to her temple before blowing out the candles.

Before dawn, Sebastian ran into town to complete some simple errands. A few were unsavory, bullying those who doubted the name of ‘Ciel’, but most of his errands involved picking up materials for the Manor. When he came back, however, it was to the smell of a certain Prince Soma. Sebastian could smell it from a mile out from the Manor. Celine had not summoned him, indicating that she wasn’t in any real danger, but he added a burst of speed anyway. He walked right through the front door instead of entering through the servant’s quarters. He could hear voices in the main hall, so he put his purchases aside, straightened his jacket, fixed the most terrifying smile onto his face that he could manage, and strode in.

“Good of you to join us, Sebastian.” Celine said icily, glaring from her spot at the head of the table. Much to his ire, she was up and dressed to such perfection that she had clearly had help from someone other than himself. The idea of Meyrin doing such a perfect job was laughable, which left the next possible candidate going by scent- the manservant. He was serving Celine and Prince Soma some kind of fragrant tea, and offered Sebastian an irritatingly honest and warm smile, as if he was unaware of how much danger he’d put himself in by touching his Mistress. 

“Greetings, Servant!” Prince Soma said brightly, breaking him out of his murderous thoughts. “Welco-,”

“Do not refer to Sebastian as ‘servant’ ever again. Sebastian, please see these two out.” Celine said sharply, no longer playing nice. She could tolerate surprises and rudeness and general chaos, but she would not tolerate any slights to Sebastian. 

“No, no! We cannot leave yet! You must help me find her!” Prince Soma insisted, pulling out a drawing and placing it on the table. It was crudely drawn and offered no clues as to if he was looking for a woman or a dog. 

“Please, Lady Celine. Find it in your heart to help my master.” The manservant said kindly. Celine heaved an irritated sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“My Lady?” Sebastian enquired, waiting for her ultimate decision. If Celine thought she could get something out of Prince Soma in return for helping him, she would, even if she hated every second of it. When Celine gave another sigh, more resigned, Sebastian already knew her decision.

“You have invaded my home. Your customs in India do not apply here in England. The next time you trespass on my property, I will not hesitate to take full action against you.” Celine said with a hint of steel, fixing Prince Soma with a look that could freeze a lake. Much to Sebastian’s satisfaction, Prince Soma visibly gulped under her icy look. “That being said,” Celine continued, “I will help you find your…?”

“Friend! This is Mina. She was my servant in India before an Englishman stole her away and took her back to England to be his wife!” Soma said passionately. “She took care of me as I grew up. I won’t let her be forced to marry someone in a foreign land!” 

“Very decent of you.” Celine said after a moment, frowning. “I suppose you do not know the identity of the Englishman who took Mina?” She picked up her teacup with delicate fingers, taking a sip and adding, “This is delicious, Agni.”

The manservant brightened under the praise, offering her a humble bow. Sebastian felt a sharp flare of jealousy, and he knew that his eyes flashed, just briefly, because Celine sent him a brief look, confused and knowing all in one. 

Scheming internally, Celine turned her gaze back to Prince Soma, the airhead. Sebastian was both simultaneously irritated and jealous of the strangers from India, which meant that helping them and then having them in her debt would be both lucrative _and_ entertaining. Celine couldn’t _wait_ to tease Sebastian about it. Prince Soma was looking at her hopefully, like a lost puppy. “No, I do not know the name of the man who took Mina. But I know that we could find him together! Although…” He trailed off. “Is it proper for a woman like you to run an investigation?”

Celine could feel Sebastian’s wicked smirk drilling into the back of her head. 

“I think you will find many things different here in England than they were in India, Prince Soma.” Celine said as lightly as possible, forcing herself to send him a warmer smile. “However, I’m sure that with yours and Agni’s added protection, I will be just fine.” 

The smirk drilling into her head turned sour, to a point where Celine could practically _hear_ Sebastian’s scowl. It took effort not to giggle right then and there, especially when Prince Soma beamed with pride and Agni made a ridiculously solemn vow to protect both her and Soma. They made plans to search for the missing Mina. In the meantime, Celine tolerated story after story of the splendor of India, how Soma was such an amazing Prince, this and that…boring. He was a horribly naive child. Still, it was worth it to see Tanaka, Finny, and Bard entertained by Soma’s stories. Celine didn’t have many guests at the manor, and certainly not Indian royalty. Agni flustered Meyrin so much (to Celine’s amusement) that her maid was flushed the entire time, unable to look anyone in the eye. Finny was enchanted with stories of the splendors of India, Bard seemed interested in the guerrilla warfare employed in the region, and Tanaka, as usual, enjoyed himself in almost any situation.

“Tomorrow, you should give us a tour of the grounds and the manor!” Soma declared after a long day of overly dramatic stories and plans. Celine had handled the hospitality with grace, as any Lady should, but her nerves were starting to fray. She could sense the same in Sebastian, whose expression was almost completely frozen on his signature overly polite, eyes-closed smile. 

“It would be my pleasure. Goodnight, Prince Soma.” Celine offered him a curtsy before leading the way to her chambers, Sebastian following. As soon as they stepped into her room and closed the door, Sebastian took great pleasure in abruptly pinning Celine to the wall, making her gasp. She stared up at him, eye wide, as Sebastian very delicately stroked her cheek with one gloved finger. When he leaned in, as if to kiss her, that eye got even wider before gently fluttering closed, an act of submission that had Sebastian’s carnal side roaring for more. 

Instead, he kissed her cheek and murmured, “ _Tease,”_ into her soft, warm skin. After a moment, Celine broke into giggles, the sound music to Sebastian’s ears as she lazily draped an arm over his shoulders, fingers smoothing the wool of his suit coat in a maddening way. 

“I could not resist.” She laughed, head falling back against the expensive wallpaper. Sebastian admired the long, graceful lines of her neck and throat, so appealing, so _untouched_. “Do you not like it when I tease you? Surely you expected it,” She smirked, meeting his gaze. 

“Reveled in it,” Sebastian corrected, and her smile grew to something much more soft. 

“Shall we make a wager, then? Who can _tease_ the most as we help poor Prince Soma find his lost Mina?” Celine suggested a bet. Humming in contemplation, Sebastian plucked at her eyepatch, easing it off. Her other eye opened, revealing the sparkling purple iris that always took his breath away. 

“If you win, My Lady? What more could you desire?” Sebastian enquired. “You need simply ask for anything.”

“One does not have to ask a servant, only order them.” Celine quipped, laughing again when Sebastian sent her a less than impressed look at hearing his own words repeated to him. She then sobered, meeting his gaze with an intense look of her own. Delicate fingers reached up to touch his jaw. Pinned against the wall as she was, she could feel every line of his body, feel the heat they were sharing from being so close together. Sebastian’s cologne, his soap, even his _scent_ hung around her. Still, she knew just what she wanted. “If I win, I want one day with you, just the two of us, where you are my…” She took a deep breath, noting the slight change in Sebastian’s expression; one of interest, of brief surprise before he could hide it.

“Where I am…?” He prompted, voice low and soft, like cashmere.

“Where you are not my servant or my demon. Where you are my friend.” Celine managed to say it, heart hammering, as she and Sebastian stared at one another. “May I ask that of you, as a friend?” Celine asked softly, feeling a sudden pang of fear. Surely he would reject her, spout some line about being her protector, with her until the end—

Sebastian turned his head and kissed her palm, lids fluttering shut on wine colored orbs as his lips met her skin. The cost of asking him was equal to the cost he would accrue by answering her with he same terrifying honesty. He felt another pang of admiration for the never-ending courage of Celine Phantomhive. “Yes.” He answered quietly, bringing his lips away from her skin to answer, eyes opening once more, blazing. “You may ask that of me, and it would be my honor to lose.”

“You plan on losing?” Celine bantered, her smile as beautiful as the sun, but she was clearly relieved. 

“ _Tease,”_ Sebastian kissed her cheek again, lingering on the word, on her skin, until Celine shivered. “No. I do not plan on losing, my Lady. If I were to lose a bet, what kind of demon would I be?”

“Mmm. What will you seek then, Sebastian, if you win?” Celine asked.

“One day with you, just the two of us.” Sebastian began. “But I will ask that you are not my Lady.” When he didn’t elaborate, Celine raised an eyebrow.

“Then what shall I be, Sebastian?” She enquired, very slowly running her fingers through his hair, his fringe, brushing it back from his cheekbone. 

Sebastian then treated her to a very wicked smile. “You will have to lose, my Lady, to find out.”

“ _Tease!”_ Celine whined, pushing on his shoulders. Sebastian stepped back out of her space, but didn’t stop smirking the entire time he helped her undress and step into soft pajamas. “Goodnight, Sebastian.” Celine said, pouting prettily in bed, eyes half narrowed at him as she tried to get a read on what he might ask of her. 

“Goodnight, my Lady.” Sebastian wished, pressing another lingering kiss to her temple before blowing out the candles.


	12. Celine's Lessons

_“Goodnight, my Lady.” Sebastian wished, pressing another lingering kiss to her temple before blowing out the candles._

_[][][][][][][]_

By unspoken agreement, Sebastian and Celine were tender and honest in the privacy of her rooms. He dressed her with his usual gentle, lingering touches, and Celine kissed his hand when he finished tying on her eyepatch. However, as soon as they left her rooms to meet Prince Soma and Agni for breakfast, the game was on. All bets were off. Both wanted to win.

“Good morning, Lady Celine!” Prince Soma said brightly as they met in the great hall. Sebastian felt his eyebrow twitch slightly as Celine offered her hand to Soma for a kiss. The Prince, of course, treated it to an overly in-depth kiss, which didn’t fail to make Sebastian flare with jealousy. He made sure to let his hands linger almost longer than was appropriate on Celine’s shoulders as he pushed in her chair, and when no one was looking, he let two fingers slip below her collar and stroke up her neck, making Celine shiver and stare after him.

Sebastian served breakfast, and felt increasing irritation as Celine encouraged Agni to show them ‘how serving was done in India’. In essence, she was encouraging him to take over Sebastian’s duties. Agni, damn him, was more than willing and actually _enjoyed_ making others happy. It was both humbling and disgusting to watch. 

Then came the ridiculous praying. As Celine tried to politely explain that a tour of the manor would have to wait until after her lessons, the two foreigners suddenly and quite boldly ignored her to throw themselves in front of a shrine that had appeared overnight in the main hall. It was as perplexing as it was grotesque. “This is a statue of the Goddess Kali,” Agni explained brightly, looking up from his prayer. “She is the Goddess of Power. It is said that winning a fight with a demon awoke in her an unquenchable thirst for violence and glory. She would have destroyed the world if her husband hadn’t thrown himself under her feet to bring her out of her stupor.” Agni turned dreamy eyes onto the woman’s face, her eyes bulging with rage and her tongue hanging from her mouth. 

“I also know a woman with an unquenchable thirst for power and glory,” Sebastian hummed in Celine’s ear when no one was looking.

Celine let out a faint snort, undetectable to their guests. “It is what brought you to me. Be careful, or I’ll defeat you.” She said in an undertone, smirking when Sebastian huffed, leaning away. 

“I am finished praying! Lady Celine, let’s go out!” Prince Soma declared, taking her hand. “I want to see everything the city has to offer! You’ll be my guide, won’t you?” 

“I’m afraid the lady has been _deeply_ neglecting her lessons,” Sebastian briefly shot Celine a wicked smirk when Prince Soma was too busy pouting to notice. “The Lady’s schedule is full today. Perhaps tomorrow?” Sebastian offered, smirk widening when Celine did a poor job of hiding her own pout. She didn’t _want_ to go into the city with the Prince, but her pride flared at the suggestion that she’d neglected any part of her education. Sebastian knew it too, knew that it got under her skin.

The game was on. 

Sebastian scored yet more points in Celine’s violin lesson, pointedly lifting her chin with his bow and trailing it down her back as a reminder to keep her posture firm. It was hard to focus on the music with him lurking, his eyes tracing paths over her body that made her want to shiver. Celine had just started to focus in on the melancholic theme of the piece Sebastian had picked when—

_Twang._

Prince Soma and Agni had snuck in with sataars, and were trying to accompany the severe and at times angry piece with cheerful chords. Thankfully, Sebastian was as irritated with the interruption as Celine was, and promptly shooed the two foreigners out. The next hour of Celine’s schedule was set for sketching, something she excelled at greatly. Sebastian didn’t have to offer many guiding statements at all; he simply set up the still life and watched Celine sketch, her one visible eye often narrowing in concentration in a way that Sebastian found incredibly beautiful. Nothing was more riveting than a focused, determined Celine. It was as if she _hunted_ out every detail, an idea Sebastian liked very much. 

It was then that Prince Soma, who had snuck in yet again, piped up, “Drawing just a bottle is boring, yes?” He then pointed to Meyrin dramatically and demanded, “Woman! Disrobe!”

“You cannot ask anything of my staff that I would not do myself, Prince Soma.” To Sebastian’s utter horror, Celine turned to fix the Prince with an intense look, her fingers playing with the collar of her dress in an entirely too seductive manner. It took effort to keep his eyes from flashing as he turned his attention to calming Meyrin’s embarrassed moaning instead of ripping out Prince Soma’s eyes. It didn’t help that Celine was smirking at him in his peripheral vision. 

The smirk faded as she resumed working on her business, balancing accounts and trying new products for quality and taste. Neither demon nor Mistress scored points over the other there. Celine daintily licked her finger to remove traces of chocolate left there by the sweet candies, something that made Sebastian’s heart stutter, but he then returned the favor by unnecessarily swiping his thumb, sans glove, over her lower lip to remove nothing at all. 

It was almost a relief that they were interrupted once again by Prince Soma. The tension had been getting dangerously high with nosy guests around. 

Then came Celine’s fencing lesson. 

She took her frustration with Soma’s constant comments out on Sebastian for a while, her thrusts particularly sharp and fast, until she whipped around and demanded silence from the Prince. Her flushed, angry demand, a weapon in her hand, was extremely satisfying for Sebastian, who committed the scene to memory. It helped that he could chide her for being unladylike all in one go- a lady never raised her voice. The dirty look Celine shot him in return was utterly wonderful. 

“Perhaps I should leave my fencing lessons to my Aunt. As both a Lady and a _master_ with swords, she might be better suited.” Celine said with fake thoughtfulness. Once Sebastian had narrowed his eyes at her, she added, “Oh, Prince? I realize now how horribly rude I’ve been to ignore you today. Why don’t you join me?” Celine turned, offering her foil to the Prince, hilt first. The coy lilt to her voice made Sebastian fight a frown. Just when he thought the tables were turning, Celine tipped the scales right back again. 

She was utterly perfect.

“Heh? Fight a noble Lady such as yourself?” Prince Soma briefly looked uncertain, as if he had a shred of conscious thought in his body, before he shrugged and took the foil. “I will go easy on you, noble Lady! And then we will go into the city, yes?”

“Only if you win, Prince. I need to see how strong you are so that you can protect me should we run into braggarts.” Celine said in a ridiculously breathy voice. It made Sebastian’s spine straighten and his teeth grit together. 

“Let’s go!” the Prince, encouraged by the sickeningly sweet comment, twirled the foil. Sending him a lingering, smug look, Celine took Sebastian’s foil as her own, assuming a flawless form and waiting for Soma to strike. And so he did- incorrectly. With a shout of triumph, the Prince aimed to whip Celine in the leg. His look of confused alarm when the foil bent accordingly upon coming into contact with Celine’s leg would have been funny if Sebastian didn’t want to throttle him.

“That is not a valid point in fencing, Prince Soma,” Celine tutted, clearly not at all sympathetic. “You must score upon the chest, and arms!” She gave a lightning fast jab that the foreigner barely avoided with a yelp of fright. 

“My—noble Lady! I do not know the rules to this game!” Prince Soma protested, dodging another thrust with an undignified grunt. 

“ _Thrust_ forward, Prince.” Celine had the gall to let her gaze slide to Sebastian, a wicked glint to her eye, before she took aim at the Prince’s wide open chest.

In the blink of an eye, Agni moved- almost too fast for _Sebastian_ to track. Like the crack of a whip, two of his fingers shot out and rammed into the crook of Celine’s arm. The gasp of pain and surprise that escaped her seemed to clog Sebastian’s ears and steep his rage as she sank to her knees, cradling her arm. The only reason he didn’t lay into Agni immediately was that he was still a bit surprised that he’d moved so quickly. Not much surprised Sebastian anymore, and the loyal Indian bodyguard had managed to do just that. Said bodyguard instantly began groveling, babbling nervously about mindlessly protecting his Master as Sebastian knelt next to Celine, placing a hand on her back.

“Are you alright, my Lady?” He asked, resisting the urge to grab Celine’s hand and arm to inspect every inch of her skin. She was delicate, but she was also as strong as iron. One poke to a pressure point wouldn’t cause much damage- perhaps a bruise or two. It wasn’t anything serious, or so Sebastian told himself. Flexing her shaky and numb fingers repeatedly, Celine nodded, offering him an almost shy smile.

“Agni is an extension of myself! He beat you, which means _I_ beat you! So we will go out into London, yes?” Prince Soma’s bratty cheer broke Celine and Sebastian out of their moment. Agni was still sweating nervously as his Master threw an arm around his shoulders, grinning at Celine. “We will have lots of fun together, Lady Celine! I will buy you anything you want! We should fit you for a sari; you’d look beautif-,”

“If Agni is an extension of yourself, Prince Soma, than I am an extension of my Lady,” Sebastian interrupted, voice low and smooth as he recovered Celine’s foil. “I cannot allow an attack on my Lady to go unchallenged.” He rose, a gentle hand under Celine’s elbow urging her up also. He then smoothly stepped in front of her, cocked his head, and said, “I challenge you.”

If Sebastian was being honest with himself, he wanted a chance to best Agni. He’d been pestering and _too nice_ from the moment he’d stepped foot into the Manor. Not only was he incredibly good at everything he tried to do (cooking, cleaning, dressing the Lady, laundry…), but he genuinely wanted to help. If Sebastian heard the Indian earnestly insist, “It was my pleasure to prepare this for you! It is nothing but a small trifle of thanks!” one more time, Sebastian would probably try to break him in half. He was the most irritating person Sebastian had met in a while, especially because he had just a bit of respect for the mortal man. Knocking him down a peg would let Sebastian be petty and greedy again- as a demon should be. 

“Aha! Yes! I shall allow you to duel, Agni! Fight for your Master!” Prince Soma said eagerly. 

“Sebastian, this is an order,” Celine said very softly, eye narrowed. “Win.”

Her competitive nature, paired with the order, made Sebastian’s blood sing. He didn’t even care that the Prince stood too close to her to watch the duel. He would win for his Mistress, and he would take great pleasure in it too.

“Yes, my Lady,” Sebastian purred, raising his foil in preparation to fight. 

[][][][][][][][]

Anticlimactically, it ended in a draw.

“A _draw.”_ Countess Celine Phantomhive, powerful and intelligent, scowled at her bathwater like a child. Once the match had ended with Agni and Sebastian breaking the foils in the tie that surprised both parties, Prince Soma had finally settled down. Celine was free to finish her lessons and work in peace. Dinner had been quick (Sebastian begrudgingly let Agni help, much to his irritation), which had led to Celine declaring that she wanted a bath.

“Mm.” Sebastian hummed noncommittally, rubbing the pale, untouched skin of Celine’s back with a soft cloth. He could still remember the first night he washed her back, removing tacky, congealing blood that wasn’t hers until the bathwater was pinkish red.

“Call me bratty if you wish, but I wanted nothing more than to see you beat him. Agni is kind. Far, far too kind for me not to be suspicious of him.” Celine squinted at Sebastian again. “You’re _sure_ he’s not a demon?”

Sebastian was surprised into laughter. “You think demons are nice? I must be losing my touch.” He quipped, wringing out the cloth, and Celine rolled her eyes, clinging to the edge of the tub and plopping down her chin onto her arms to engage in their conversation. 

“A ruse to get close to those of importance. You fake friendliness all the time. I assure you, you are the most frightening demon I have ever met.” Celine insisted gently, eyes sparkling.

“You have only met one demon.” He reminded her.

“One is enough.” Celine declared. She then hesitated, and added in a softer voice, “The very first night we spent together, when you gave me a bath…I was terrified of you.” She glanced away, frowning. Sebastian’s touch on her back, which had been rubbing soft circles, stopped. After a moment, the soothing circular motions resumed.

“Although you are very strong,” Sebastian began, “you had just been saved from unspeakable cruelty. Your suffering was fresh and painful in your mind. You were injured, and alone, save for a demon from Hell you knew nothing about.” He dipped the rag into the water to reheat it before resuming his strokes. “I do not think less of you for being afraid. As a survivor, it was your instinct to assess threats.”

“And you are a threat.” Celine murmured into her arm, still not looking at him. A focused frown was pulling at her brow as she stared intently at the tile floor. Was she thinking of the end- when her glorious revenge was handed to her and Sebastian would be duty bound to consume her soul? Was she still afraid? Sebastian’s mind almost ran off with him. It was that moment that Celine blinked, looked up at him, and added, “You almost bested me today. I won’t have that.”

All fears melted away, and he lifted an eyebrow at her. “Today was child’s play, my Lady. Surely some light banter wasn’t too much for you?” 

“Wicked,” Celine commented, laughing slightly. “It is a blow to my pride to even admit that you are a worthy adversary. Now you must compliment me on my teasing or I will surely never recover from this.”

“Your pride does not need any more elevating, my Lady. Close your eyes.” Sebastian smiled as Celine huffed at him, irritated, and tipped her head back, closing her eyes as directed, so that he could wash her hair. He admired her profile for a moment, and the long lines of her throat, before adding, just to spite her, “Your teasing was adequate, I suppose.”

The eye with the seal cracked open just a sliver, delivering a deadly glare at the demon butler. 

 


	13. Investigation of the East End

_The eye with the seal cracked open just a sliver, delivering a deadly glare at the demon butler._

_[][][][][][][]_

“A letter for you, my Lady.” Sebastian had only left the dining room for a moment, but came back to find Soma offering Celine a bite from his fork, insisting that she needed to try one of Agni’s creations. 

Sebastian felt his eye twitch when Celine leaned forward and snagged the bite off of the fork, making an unnecessarily satisfied sound at the flavor of the food before taking her letter off of the silver plate in Sebastian’s hand. Celine flipped the letter over, frowning at the royal seal holding the envelope shut before she promptly rose. “Forgive me for leaving you during breakfast, but this is an urgent matter that needs my full attention.”

“Oh! After, can we go into London? You must show me the sights!” Soma insisted, and Sebastian felt his eye twitch again when Celine offered him a sweet smile. His jealousy was worse the second day around.

“Perhaps. Enjoy the rest of your meal.” Celine wished, and strode from the room. Sebastian made pleasantries for a moment longer before heading up to her study. A letter from the Queen meant that Celine had a new case to focus on. She would most likely kick Soma and Agni from the house, an idea that pleased Sebastian greatly. He knocked, and when he was bid entry to the study, he ducked in, shutting the door behind him.

“My dearest child,” Celine began reading out loud immediately, frowning. “Recent events in Portman Square have most likely not escaped your notice. It brings me great anxiety to hear of such awful things, as this is not the first attack of this nature and will most likely not be the last. Please investigate these strange happenings and put a stop to them. Yours, Victoria.” 

“Ah, yes, Portman Square. Unfortunate gentleman having returned recently from India were strung up in the rafters of a restaurant, correct?” Sebastian made it his business to read the paper thoroughly before ironing it for his Mistress, and nothing escaped his notice. As the Queen had said, this was not the first attack matching that description. Soldiers returning home from Britain’s unruly colony had suffered the same fate. 

“Yes, all of them marked with this symbol.” Celine had drawn one on a piece of her stationary, a childish tongue in black ink. “Additionally, the signs included this message, always the same. ‘Watch this, you wild, pathetic chosen children of sloth and depravity. England is the motherland of the devil. It steals everything and forces its worthless, rotten, and decadent culture on you instead. To all of the bitch-dominated idiots of this Land, you are the ones that deserve the vengeance of Heaven! Now, the Day has come!’ Hmm.” Celine read the note, scowling at the word ‘bitch’. 

“An unhappy foreigner?” Sebastian suggested mildly. He loved watching Celine piece through the information she had to form conjectures on the situation. It never failed to make him proud, and she rarely looked more beautiful.

(That was a lie. Sebastian thought that she always looked beautiful, especially when flustered.)

“Mm. Most likely. It could be Sierra Leone- the Queen had her concerns with that acquisition, as they are a recent addition to the Empire. Aside from India, New Zealand and Australia were also being quite difficult. However, the site of the most recent attack was at a restaurant that serves Indian cuisine. That, paired with our sudden guests…” Celine sighed, rubbing lightly at her eyes.  “We will need to go into London to speak with Lord Randall, and perhaps that overly energetic officer…Aberline, was it?”

“Yes, my Lady.” Sebastian agreed. “Shall I send Prince Soma and Agni on their way?”

“No.” Celine decided, and shot a half amused look at Sebastian when he frowned. “I fully intend to win our wager, Sebastian. Besides, it is too much of a coincidence that they were seeking shelter in London days before this attack occurred. The two of them have been in London since the attacks began. Even if they are not involved, they have insight into the political upheaval surrounding India. They are a valuable resource in solving this investigation.”

“And a nuisance.” Sebastian tried one more tactic- seduction. He stepped up behind her, laid gentle hands on her- one on her hip, the other between her shoulder blades. He trailed it slowly down her spine and asked lowly in her ear, “Why not let me take care of this? Send the foreigners on their way and I will alleviate the Queen’s concerns by the end of the day.”

“Hmm. You are good at that…” Celine’s heartbeat increased, but she was pulling away. “But I’m afraid I have personal interest in this case, Sebastian. India’s wealthy upstarts, which seem to be a main target of this individual’s anger, are a stain upon England’s reputation. One cannot simply take full advantage of a colony as we have with India. Crushing a resource too quickly and too harshly leads to violent uprisings, such as what we saw in North America.” Celine wrinkled her nose. “I will not see the Queen lose another colony in such a fashion.”

She then leaned forward, plucking his tie out of his vest. “Besides…your jealousy is like a fuel for my soul. I loathe him too, but I would bait Prince Soma a thousand times just to watch you bristle every single time.”

“Wicked.” Sebastian rebuked her with no real feeling, the word rumbling out of him, eyes flaring. It took effort not to slide his arms around her waist, or to pluck off her eyepatch. The day had just begun, and Soma and Agni would not be much longer in the great hall. He did have time, however, to press a light kiss to her cheek, insides howling at the softness against his lips. “I will prepare your carriage, my Lady.” He said formally, smirking at the sight of pink in her cheeks as he pulled away.

“I wish to visit my associate Lau in the East End prior to seeking out Lord Randall and Aberline.” Celine cleared her throat, tucking his tie back into his vest and smoothing the fabric to lay flat. “He won’t be surprised to see me not as ‘Ciel’, but it will take discretion to have me visit in my normal attire. I assume you can arrange that as well?”

“It will be done, my Lady. I will find a way to distract your guests as well. Unless you’d rather they came?” He winced internally at the offer. Thankfully, Celine simply shook her head and returned to her case documents, a thoughtful frown in place. 

[][][][][][][][]

An hour or so later, Sebastian was doing his best to be looming and intimidating behind his Mistress as she strode up to a ramshackle, filthy building in the East End. She was usually dressed in disguise as Ciel in the East End, and so very little harassment came her way. Any that did she could take care of herself. Dressed as a woman, men were already calling lewd things her way, and the bouncer at the door to the opium den ran by Lau Qinbang was doing his best to scare her.

“Good morning. I am here to meet with Lau Qinbang. He is expecting me.” Celine said clearly and calmly, not at all intimidated by the leering bouncer that smelled overpoweringly like spirits, tobacco, and sweat.

“Are you now, little lady?” He sent her a mostly toothless smile. “That’s mighty nice. You look just sweet enough to pay the toll as well.”

“There is no toll. Stand aside.” Celine said with a hint of sharpness, and the man’s expression grew ugly.

“Listen here, you hoity bitch-,” He tried to bear down over her and instead gave a kind of odd, rocking motion backward when Sebastian’s eyes flashed terrifyingly in warning. 

“I am here to see Lau Qinbang on behalf of my Master. Will that be a problem?” Celine held up a ‘business card’ of sorts for Ciel. Plain paper, rather ragged, with a blue eye pressed into the fabric inside of a diamond. At the sight of the logo, the bouncer hastily stepped aside, opening the door for her and taking off his hat.

“M’apologies,” he mumbled hastily, recoiling when Sebastian treated him to a vicious look on his way past. It gave him great pleasure to imagine slitting the man’s throat. Men were pathetically simple creatures, and far too many scorned his Lady, looked at her like meat. 

“Was it necessary for you to come this way, my Lady?” he asked disdainfully as he escorted her through the opium shop on the main floor and to the staircase that led to the dens beneath. The overwhelming stench of opium made the air heavy and stagnant. The place was filthy- he was already itching to wash the smell and dirt from his Lady’s skin. “Watch your step please, my Lady,” He added, lightly touching her arm to keep her from stepping on a cracked rise in the staircase.

“Thank you, Sebastian, and yes, it was.” Celine said, lifting her skirts and wincing in disgust at the path she’d cleared in the dust on the stairs with the heavy fabric trailing behind her. “Ciel is only for use at night. The underworld does not exist during normal business hours, so neither does he.”

Sebastian simply sighed his acquiescence and opened the doors for her, following her into the pungent opium den. The air was cloudy with smoke, duly lit by fragile Chinese paper lanterns. Though the haze a low settee appeared, a man lounging on it with no less than five whores curled about his person: in his lap, rubbing his shoulders, leaning against his side to play with his hair. “My my,” Lau drawled, sitting up straight and removing the opium pipe from his lips. “Color me surprised. Welcome, Countess!”

“Lau,” Celine was trying her hardest not to cough as he blew out a languid stream of smoke. “You most likely know why I have come, so let us resolve this quickly. You are clearly…busy…and the shorter of a visit I can manage to this place, the better.”

“Not to your usual tastes, is it, my Lady?” Lau considered dreamily. “How have you been? Busy, I hope? There is lots of unsavory gossip about you. Some of it has even sank into the underworld, can you believe that? Usually we don’t care for such things.”

“What do you know of the incident in Portman Square, Lau?” Celine ignored the jibe about Edward. “Are you Executive of the Shanghai Mafia or not?”

“Oh, so formal,” Lau sighed, stroking the chin of one of his whores contemplatively. “Pray, what incident are you referring to?”

Sebastian was sure one of his Lady’s eyes twitched in irritation, which made him glance away to hide his amusement. 

After explaining the attack in Portman Square, Lau agreed to lead them into the heart of the ‘Indian Stronghold’ in the East End, where he knew of the largest population of angry Indian natives to be living in poverty in London. ‘Ciel’ may have ruled most of the underworld with an iron fist, there were areas that Celine trusted to Lau to manage in her best interest. By letting the illusion exist that Lau controlled those areas separately from ‘Ciel’s’ territory, Celine had control over almost 99% of the East End, with no one the wiser. As the East End was only growing as more poor and displaced Indians and other foreigners from English colonies were left to rot in London, the ‘Indian Stronghold’ was not a place Celine knew well. She made a mental note to put more energy into understanding the impoverished in the ‘Indian Stronghold’ as Lau led them in.

After spending three hours being harassed by angry troops of Indians, Celine was just about ready to give up. She hadn’t even had time to ask any of the people who approached them about the specific wording of the threat left at each scene, or to enquire if the symbol drawn at the bottom was related to that of a specific gang or organization. As they got closer and closer to the entrance of the stronghold, Lau slipped away, insisting he had work to do. Sebastian got some light exercise, sighing at the inconvenience of having to disarm band after band of angry men.

They had been walking less than a block after one such fight when the far too cheerful voice of Prince Soma called out, “ _My Lady~!”_

“You didn’t.” Celine, who by that point was tired, frustrated, and irritated, shot a look that could kill a lesser man at Sebastian, who was suddenly treating her to his famous eyes-closed smile. In most cases, it gave away to her that he was irritated. In this case, she could tell that he was using it to hide a filthy smirk. She should have known better than to let him come up with the distraction for her guests on his own. Still, the petty challenge he presented made her heart race.

“Do what, my Lady?” Sebastian enquired innocently seconds before Prince Soma bounded up to her, treating her hand to a long, exuberant kiss. 

“Lady Celine! Sebastian promised that you would meet us here, and here you are! I am so excited to be in the city of London with you! Although, this is not a safe place for a beautiful Lady like you. We should go into the West End and fit you in a sari that drips with golden thread!” Soma declared excitedly. 

“How kind of Sebastian to plan time for us to be together. He was very insistent that I stay to a schedule of nothing but work.” Celine, feeling not at all charitable, delivered a pout usually reserved for Sebastian alone, and Prince Soma’s jaw nearly detached at the sight of it. She felt Sebastian stiffen at her retaliation, and had to hide a smirk of her own. “Sebastian, I feel that I will be very well protected with Agni and Prince Soma at my side. Please deliver all of our previous assailants to the City Yard and ask Aberline and Lord Randall to question them, would you please? Report their findings to me when it is done.” 

Sebastian made a mental note to not irritate Celine so much so that she would retaliate by _dismissing_ him again, especially when it was to be with someone like Prince Soma. He knew that she would loathe the experience as well, but the thought of her being alone with him for at least an hour while he fulfilled her orders made his jealousy flare even higher. 

“As you wish, my Lady,” He made sure to frown at her when Soma and Agni weren’t looking, just to make his displeasure clear. Instead of being intimidated by his stern look, she dared to stick her tongue out at him, both a childish retort and a reminder of his task. 

He entertained himself while fulfilling her order with the idea of her being forced to walk arm in arm with Prince Soma in the West End. The gossip would irritate her for months, at best, and being forced to be a perfect, polite Lady after an exhausting morning would put Celine in a wicked mood by the time they reunited again. Giving her that bath was becoming more and more appealing. He would be able to cleanse the stink of opium off of her, the bath would lighten her spirits and, most importantly, the bath would give them more time alone.

He then imagined his Mistress in a sari, and was distracted once more from his task.

[][][][][][][][]

“Sebastian.”

Celine’s voice, soft, stopped Sebastian from leaving her room. After her long day, no new leads, and the much needed bath, Celine had gone to bed without complaint, bags developing under her eyes from tiredness. Sebastian wanted to kiss them away, but he supposed that a long night’s rest would be a bit more appropriate. Besides, he was not about to raise the passion of their carefully constructed relationship when she was so clearly exhausted. Instead, he stopped, turning around and enquiring, “Yes, my Lady?”

Celine could not see what he could in the dark. The white silk table runner, her macabre souvenir from her ordeal, glowed a soft white on her bedside table. The air still curled with smoke from the candles he had blown out. Soft moonlight painted her curtains around the edges with silver. Above all, lying curled in bed like a child, Sebastian could see that Celine’s eyes were open, an almost frightened look to them as she starred aimlessly into the dark. She swallowed nervously, her heartbeat picking up a little as she asked, “Will you stay?”

“Of course,” Sebastian agreed. Long ago, he would have mocked her for her request and lingered far too close, like a dark, evil shadow, over her shoulder for most of the night. He would have worked to unsettle her, to make her hate him as much as she needed him. Now he simply glided back over to her bed, sitting on her side of it. 

“That…isn’t what I mean.” Celine said softly, eyes fluttering shut and then squeezing tight for a moment. 

“Would you like me to stand guard?” Sebastian enquired. He’d never guarded her door like some kind of knight before- Meyrin sniped most intruders from the top of the manor, and if she missed any he usually killed them before they got within one hundred meters of Celine’s window. Celine knew this, and had never once communicated that she felt unsafe. 

“No.” Celine rolled onto her back, found his face in the dark. “Will you sleep with me?”

Sebastian couldn’t help it; his eyes flared once, just briefly, in the darkness. He knew that she was not asking for anything sexual, but the innocent question still made him think and imagine its secondary meaning. He saw Celine cringe a little- she clearly wasn’t ready for that kind of sensual activity. Still, he could taste bits of her fear, her desperation and her loneliness. Her love. Celine’s want for him to be close was like a perfume in the air. In response, Sebastian bent down and began unlacing his shoes.

“Sebastian?” Celine sat up a little, propping herself on her forearms, unable to see what he was doing in the dark. He could hear a touch of anxiety to her voice. She needed him, but her pride made her terrified to reach out, even to him.

“It would be terribly rude to put my shoes in your bed, my Lady. Pray, give me a moment.” He said quietly, and Celine relaxed with a sigh, placing her head back on the pillow and closing her eyes. Sebastian made fast work of his shoes and tailcoat. His vest was draped with care over the chair at Celine’s dresser. His tie was briskly unknotted and placed over the chair as well. Sebastian considered, but then left his gloves on. Celine had been touched without her permission by filthy hands. A barrier of cloth- his shirt, his trousers, his gloves, even his _socks-_ might make her more comfortable.

Suitably disrobed, Sebastian moved to the other side of the bed and slid beneath the expensive duvet. After a moment, Celine turned to lay on her side, her unmarked eye pressed into her pillow. The eye with the seal considered Sebastian, the purple pentagram slightly luminous in the dark. “Thank you,” Celine said after a moment, voice soft and relieved in the darkness around them.

“I am grateful you asked, my Lady. You should want for nothing. Do not hesitate to ask for what you need.” He didn’t want to encourage her to ask for help- Celine was too proud for that. Even his remark about her asking for what she wanted made her frown at him a little. The frown vanished when he dared to add, “I will enjoy being close to you.” It was true, but admitting such a thing to what he was supposed to be considering his prey was taboo; foreign, but exciting.

Sebastian could see her blush in the dark, and simply smiled in response, eyes sliding closed in a mimicry of sleep. When was the last time he had actually laid down like this? Demons did not need to sleep. He had taken one night, when Celine insisted, to lay on the unused bed in his quarters in order to heal more quickly from fighting Grell Sutcliffe. This, however, was different; he hadn’t laid down to _sleep_ and seek peace in over a hundred years. Celine had asked many questions of him about the nature of demons when they first became tied to one another, and so she asked no questions of him then. Instead, she relaxed at the sight of her demon, her Sebastian, lying comfortably in bed. If he had any woes, he wasn’t bothered by them then. She could almost do the same.

Sharing a peaceful moment with someone she cared deeply about, after all that had happened, felt like a lucid dream. She had to reach out and pinch his sleeve with her fingers to convince herself that she hadn’t fallen asleep. “Goodnight, Sebastian,” She found herself whispering like a child, not wanting to disturb the peaceful silence around them.

“Pleasant dreams, my Lady.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so very sorry for making you wait so long! I am working on the next chapter now. You all leave such kind words and encouragement for me and it makes a huge difference; thank you all very, very much!


	14. Misunderstandings

_"Pleasant dreams, my Lady."_

_[][][][][][][]_

_Frightened faces. Desperate hands, reaching out, begging for rescue. Screams of agony, rasping gurgles of last, pained breaths._

_Rough hands, restrictive and uncaring. Open slaps. No matter how hard she tried to fight her way free, tight grips pinned her wrists, her ankles. Forceful hands spread her legs apart, yanked her forward to—_

_She was trapped in the cage, the disgusting nobles coming over to peek through the bars, comment on the night’s sacrifices. One by one, each child was ripped out of her arms and murdered, their throats cut, their hearts stabbed. The blood coated the altar, dripped to the floor, congealed in large pools. When it was her turn, the rough hands yanked her out, forced her onto the altar. The same man in the ceremonial mask raped her, the others holding her still so that she couldn’t fight and scratch and struggle. They stabbed her hand, straight through, to summon a demon from Hell._

_She was thrown back into the cage. Her hatred crawled up her throat, and she found herself bitterly hoping that someone,_ _anyone,_ _would come to her rescue. She couldn’t go on anymore—_ _someone_ _had to help her. Someone needed to help her **end** this._

 _She felt what remained of her heart shatter when not a single noble spoke up. No police officers appeared. No dark heroes emerged to save her. She was utterly alone, cursed to fail in protecting the innocent, cursed to be violated and_ _used_ _for the rest of her days. Her anger was turning back into fear, into despair. Where was he? Her dark hero? Her savior? Her chance to feel normal again, to channel her hatred into something she could stand? Where was Seb—?_

“Mistress?”

_It was pure instinct, fueled by fear, to plunge her hand under pillow, grip the revolver hidden there, and pull back the hammer as she whipped the weapon around to point it threateningly into the face of the man looming over her, smile lewd and cruel. Breaths catching hard in her throat, she pressed the barrel of the gun firm to the man’s forehead, trying to keep her hands from shaking. The clammy, disgusting feeling of goosebumps rising on her skin made her feel caged in, trapped, even with the cold promise of a weapon snug in her hands._

_“Don’t—-don’t you touch me,” She demanded, voice thin. No,_ _no_ _, damn it! She wanted to be strong, to sound intimidating and sure, not pathetic and weak. Could she do it? Could she summon all of the hatred in her heart and kill that man?_

“My Lady,” _A familiar voice, soft and calm._ “I assure you that the agony and fear you are feeling now is long gone. You are quite safe here. No one shall ever touch you again.”

.

.

.

She blinked, blinked again. Her curtains weren’t open, but light was shining through the edges. In the dim light, she could see Sebastian perched on her side of the bed, clothes perfectly pressed. Despite that, his side of the bed was still warm- he’d just gotten up. He’d stayed with her. 

“Here.” Sebastian calmly leaned back from the barrel of the weapon pressed to his flawless skin and rose, heading to the tea cart he must have just brought in to wake her with. He poured her a cup, explaining in a low, calm voice, “Black assam with warm milk.” He added the perfect amount of sugar and then returned, sitting back in the same place and offering her the cup, his expression worried and calm all in one.

 _Damn_. Celine wilted, unloading her weapon and placing it back under her pillow before taking the cup from Sebastian, hastily using both hands when the fragile cup rattled against the saucer in her shaky grip. Dreams of the sacrifices were normal, as were those of the rapes. But never, _never_ had she dreamed of her worst fear like that before. The idea of Sebastian not answering her desperate call made her feel nauseous and unsettled, even with him at her side.

“My Lady,” Sebastian sounded…stiff. Like they were back to the way they had been prior to the moment in the armory. She opened her eyes to find Sebastian staring at her, his perfectly flat facade back in place. The sight of it only made her think of her alternative fate, of eventually dying in that cage or on that bloodstained altar, and that made her feel sick and cornered. Sebastian seemed to consider her for a second before continuing. “Perhaps I should not share your bed again. To cause you such distress is—!”

“Do not speak to things you do not understand.” Celine sounded just like when they’d first met- cool, closed off: unreachable. She sipped at her tea, back rigid with tension. “You are no stranger to my nightmares, Sebastian. Do not baby me.”

His stubborn, proud Mistress would not admit what was painfully clear- she was as frightened of him as she always had been. He felt a pang of disappointment, of embarrassment. Yes, Celine was incredibly unique, but why had he believed that any prey, even her, would ignore their fate? On top of that, what prey could ignore their fate to _love_ the one bound to destroy them? “Very well.” He acquiesced, slipping back into the facade of the perfect butler with painful, practiced ease. “The daily paper for you, my Lady.” The headline would disappoint her- another attack had happened, this time in Piccadilly Circus. True to his hunch, her previous tension, her unwillingness to even _look_ at him, disappeared as she unfolded the paper.

“I-!” She leaned forward, sitting cross-legged under the duvet like a child would to shake the paper open more fully. “A coffeehouse in Piccadilly Circus?” She read out loud to herself, frowning. “Sebastian, did Agni and Prince Soma leave the manor last night?”

“Indeed, in search of Mina, or so I am told. I remained by your side throughout the night.” Sebastian had to work to not sound bitter. Why force herself to ask him to stay so intimately close, only for it to frighten her? Was she really that proud? Was she trying to play him, try to make him too emotionally compromised to devour her soul? He hated the fact that she’d been succeeding. He was uncertain on what he would do if the contract was fulfilled right that very moment. He was hungry, so very hungry for a meal as delicious as Celine’s soul would be…and yet the idea eating it made his stomach turn.

“Damn it all.” Celine hissed, letting the paper fall as she pressed her fingers to her eyes.

“A Lady does not use vulgar language.” Sebastian chided dully, and Celine didn’t rise to what used to constitute as teasing banter between them.

“I did not use you effectively, even though I have my suspicions about Agni and Prince Soma. Additionally, I walked quite visibly with them in the West End yesterday. That kind of gossip will have already reached the Queen.” Celine said in a harsh voice; she was frustrated. “Sebastian, I must go into London as soon as possible.” She tossed the paper aside, getting out of bed.

“Of course.” He agreed blandly. “What shall I tell your gue-,”

“Damn them. Tell them I am called away by business. I don’t care.” Celine snapped, feeling defensive. How childish of her to give in to emotion! If she had been rational the night before, she would have had Sebastian guard the manor as usual. With additional orders to follow Agni and Prince Soma on their nighttime jaunts, she could have either ruled them out as potential culprits or caught them red-handed.

Now she’d worked herself into an uncomfortable corner, all because she’d dared to rely emotionally on someone else. _Idiot,_ she chided herself, heading for her bureau for dressing. Sebastian followed, a listless, unemotional shadow, and she had to briefly bite her tongue to keep from shouting at him. He’d clearly seen how weak she was, even with him right beside her, and now was treating her as exactly what she was- prey.

[][][][][][][][][]

Celine visited Lord Randall, Detective Aberline, and several other sources throughout the day, working as her usual icy, demanding self. Sebastian shadowed her, silent and unfeeling, and the tension between them mounted higher and higher. Angry at themselves, neither prey nor demon would look at the other, and they resorted to a strictly noblewoman to servant type of relationship. Sebastian was dry and flat, Celine dismissive and uncaring. The one time Sebastian tried to suggest that she head back to the manor to rest, or at least stop momentarily at the London estate for lunch, Celine shot him down so sharply that Sebastian offered no more opinions. She kept trying to discreetly wince and touch her eyepatch, always aborting the movement or gritting her teeth to hide her obvious discomfort from passerby. Sebastian had felt similar pangs in the contract the longer and more violently he tried to ignore his own feelings. 

This had happened once before, when she went to the Midfords for tea. He’d been so _angry_ the whole time- angry at those women for pretending as if they hadn’t caused his Mistress so much pain. Angry that the families were marrying into one another, and that they told his Mistress that to her face. Angry that Celine seemed to think that she deserved to sit at the tea table and take blow after blow to her feelings and pride. She was exhibiting the same kind of behavior again, too prideful to admit to herself when things were too much. The thought angered Sebastian yet again, and he saw Celine’s shoulders tighten in response, a hand discreetly pressing to her eyepatch before she clearly forced her touch away. He knew that she was aware that he was the cause of the pain in her eye, but she didn't say anything, so he didn't either.

That night, Lau arrived, having been summoned to the manor by Celine. He served no other purpose than to provide some buffer between herself and Sebastian. She wanted to follow Agni and Prince Soma once they left for the evening, but she couldn’t bear to do it alone with Sebastian. Even _Tanaka_ had noticed that something was off between them, but Lau was one of the most selectively oblivious people she’d ever met. He couldn’t exploit that change in behavior in any way, and he most likely didn’t care either. As a mafia executive, his insight would be useful, especially if they ended up going into unsavory areas.

As soon as Prince Soma and Agni left the manor, she was donning her ‘Ciel’ uniform with Sebastian’s strictly businesslike touch to aid her. 

It was a bitterly cold night in London, and the hard day of investigating, paired with the stress of being on eggshells around her butler had Celine biting her cheek to stay awake and to keep from shivering too much. Her ratty jacket that was a part of the ‘Ciel’ look offered little to no warmth. Still, she determinedly followed Prince Soma to bar after bar, shop after shop, until it was well past midnight and she couldn’t feel her fingers. It was almost a relief when Sebastian announced that the duo usually returned to the manor within the hour, and that they would need to leave in order to make it back before them.

[][][][][][][][]

Clenching her jaw to keep from yawning, Celine tried not to huddle so obviously close to the fire, exhausted and relieved to be back home. To make it appear as if she had long since been in bed, Celine ordered Sebastian to leave all of the lights off and for Sebastian to not greet Prince Soma and Agni. He did, however, leave her and Lau to ‘make tea’.

 What he really did during that time was dutifully listen to the Prince’s butler put him to bed. Only when Prince Soma was loudly snoring in his room did Agni, as he had been expected, left the manor once more.“Agni has left the manor once more, without Prince Soma.” Sebastian declared flatly, sliding back into the room. What his Mistress really needed was a hot bath and a long night’s sleep. She looked pale and tired by the fire, hunched in the rough, thin coat that completed the ‘Ciel’ disguise. He then looked sharply to the door- Prince Soma had gotten up.

“My good sirs,” Prince Soma slipped in, chin stiff with determination. “I understand that Lady Celine has hired you to find out the truth. I must repay her kindness and help find out what Agni has been doing. I have known for some time that he is leaving the manor at night without me, but I have had no reason to find his actions suspicious until now.” He stood up a little straighter and said firmly, “Please help me repay her Ladyship’s kindness!”

“Her Ladyship?” Lau asked dreamily, clearly fighting down giggles. “Why, she-,”

“She wouldn’t want a rich boy like you going to the places we’re heading to.” Celine had squashed her utter disgruntlement that Prince Soma couldn’t recognize her to save her identity. “You can’t come, brat. Go back to bed.”

“I—!” Prince Soma looked briefly offended, but soon appeared to realize that Agni was not there to defend his honor. “I will follow you anyway, then! I want to know the truth as well, and nothing will stop me!”

Celine let out a long suffering sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. She was exhausted. Sebastian wouldn’t even _look_ at her she was so pathetic. Lau was still giggling faintly into the sleeves of his changshan. She wanted to whip out her pistol and demand that Prince Soma go back to bed, but he would most likely attempt to wake her up or follow them anyway. Both would spell disaster. By keeping him with them against her wishes, he would be safest and the most contained. 

“Fine. You keep your mouth shut and you follow any order I give you. Got it?” She snapped, and she saw Sebastian stiffen with further displeasure. 

“Yes, I understand.” Prince Soma, in a rare display of sincerity, simply nodded. 

“Then let us leave, before we lose his trail.” Sebastian suggested, tone bored and flat as he led the way out. The four of them caught up to Agni and tailed him closely. When he instead went to a richer area instead of a poorer one, Celine started to form a hunch. That hunch turned into a strong suspicion when Agni was admitted to the house of Harold West Jebb.

“Why did Agni go into that rich person’s house?” Prince Soma asked, peeking around the corner again. “What is he doing?!”

“Shut. Up.” Celine hissed. “This is the home of Harold West Jebb, a businessman who specializes in foreign imports. His criminal record is longer than mine. You alert his guards or his dogs and we’re dead.” 

“He imports Indian tea and spices, Prince.” Sebastian added, the _obviously_ implied in his tone. “It is possible that Agni knows him from his time before he came to your service.”

“We’re going in.” Celine muttered, clapping her hands briefly together to get feeling back in her fingers, sizing up the large brick wall separating her and the information she needed. She felt Sebastian move slightly, as if to offer her assistance, so she gripped a brick firmly and started to climb. Her fingers were colder than before and she was out of breath by the time she reached the top, but it was oddly freeing to do something like that on her own. Sebastian had kept pace beside her, in case she were to fall, but he didn’t so much as glance at her as he slid off the top and landed gracefully inside Jebb’s estate. 

Wanting no special treatment, Celine did the same and winced when her knees nearly gave out, ankles twanging with pain when she landed on the icy, hard ground. Sebastian shot her a look then, one that was hard to read, but he looked away when first Lau, and then Prince Soma climbed down.

Sebastian trained a demonic gaze on Jebb’s dogs to send them fleeing, and Lau made quick work of the outside guard, using some kind of ancient Chinese acupuncture technique to send him straight to sleep. He cheerfully tossed the keys to Celine. It was easy to see which key fit the door- it was discolored and used more than any other key on the ring. Celine unlocked the door, ignoring the shocked look on Prince Soma’s face at the ease of which all of the "men" around him broke into another man’s home.

It was a relief to slip inside the warmer interior of the estate, the cold winds blocked out by strong stone walls. There were no guards inside. The group followed the damp footprints from Agni’s snowy boots through the back kitchen, into the entrance hall, and upstairs. By that time, a voice was easily audible. Celine had woken up quite a bit due to landing so hard in the back garden, and the warmer interior of Jebb’s estate made it easier for her to crouch by the door, listening intently to Jebb’s vague bragging of some kind of plan coming to fruition in three weeks time. He claimed that he needed Agni’s help to do it…interesting…

Then Prince Soma had to go and nearly ruin everything.

As soon as Agni had asked for confirmation that Mina would be alright, the idiot Prince scrambled up from behind her and made a bee-line for the door. Celine tried to snatch the back of his coat, but she missed by inches. She nearly fell right in plain sight of Agni and Jebb, into the newly opened doorway, but Sebastian’s strong arm caught her and pulled her back against him. He didn’t let go, and Celine couldn’t bear to move away. She instead kept listening. It sounded like Agni wouldn’t listen to Prince Soma’s orders, but not in a malicious way. It appeared to Celine that he had struck some kind of deal with Jebb- something to do with Mina. Had he really made so stupid of a choice in order to protect Prince Soma? 

She would berate both of them later for being idiots. In the meantime, Jebb had ordered Agni to beat Prince Soma, and it sounded like Agni was going to do it, even though he’d begged Prince Soma to go just moments before. Call it a weak spot, call it wanting to hear more of Jebb’s plan, Celine didn’t care. She didn’t want Agni, who had shown such clear devotion to Prince Soma, to be forced to strike the man he cared for so deeply. “Sebastian, this is an order. Recover Soma and do not be recognized.”

His arm tightened at her waist before he released her with a quiet, “Yes, my Lady.”

She didn’t expect him to rise up, snag a taxidermy deer head off of the wall and nonchalantly plop it on like an absurd mask. However, he did manage to get in, stop Agni from hurting Prince Soma, and get Prince Soma out of there without being recognized. He didn’t need to do it so dramatically by crashing out of the window, Prince Soma thrown over his shoulder like a sack of flour, but his methods were effective.

By the time they had returned to the manor, discussed Agni’s apparent betrayal, suffered a childish tantrum from Prince Soma, and gone their separate ways, Celine was so tired she could barely see straight. Her spirits had been high at the confirmation that Agni was the one behind the attacks, but the feeling she got, as if his actions were the result of extortion, had made her secretly glum. Agni and Prince Soma seemed too close for their relationship to be ruined by Agni allowing himself to be extorted out of some misguided, obligated feeling due to his love for Prince Soma.

To make matters worse, Sebastian did not follow her to her rooms, nor did he appear. After Prince Soma had broken one of the tea sets that she _knew_ was Sebastian’s favorite during his tantrum, the demon had disappeared (although Sebastian would never admit that he had a favorite tea set). Celine had an inkling that he was giving Prince Soma a piece of his mind, free to teach him a lesson without Agni there, but she also knew that Sebastian would never hurt the Prince.

Too exhausted to stay awake and attempt to think of a plan to get Sebastian to think of her as strong again, Celine wormed out of the Ciel costume. She had never folded anything in her life, and yet she made a clumsy attempt, even though the costume consisted of the lowest quality of clothing, because Sebastian always did so for her. The thought of all he did for her, of how he supported her and had helped her grow into a stronger person, Celine had to fiercely bite her tongue to hold back tears. Crying would solve nothing, and only make things worse. Sebastian thought that she was weak because she dreamed of the worst moments of her life and was powerless to shake that lingering fear. She _had_ to convince him otherwise…but not when she was exhausted.

Dismayed at how far things had deteriorated between her and Sebastian, Celine crawled into bed and let her tiredness take her away.


	15. Don't Leave

The breaking of the Havilland antique tea set had been the final straw.

Sebastian had been working harder and harder to control his temper all day and all night long. Celine was obviously too afraid of him to confide in him any longer. It was painfully obvious that Agni, out of stupid, selfish love for his Master, had decided to become some kind of martyr. Soma had invited himself, nearly blown Celine’s cover, and had painted himself as a tragic victim the moment they sat down to discuss what Agni could possibly be doing in the service of Harold West Jebb. 

He’d had a brief respite as he felt a pang of pride for Celine’s inner strength as she had climbed the security fence to Jebb’s estate, and again when he’d kept her from falling, holding her against him. Being able to keep her close to him, to warm her, had eased a part of his heart he’d been trying desperately to ignore. 

And then she’d continued to refuse to even look at him. Their tension, sharp and dismissive, had resumed, only contributing to his foul mood. When the brat, Soma, had stormed out of the room, Sebastian had gotten a truly wicked idea. Teaching Prince Soma a lesson would be the perfect way for him to blow off some steam, so to speak. Celine would go to her room and most likely fall asleep before she could even get out of her Ciel costume. Lau, who always affably waved off any assistance from the butler whenever he stayed at Lady Celine’s estates, would wander to his rooms. That left Prince Soma- without Agni- as a convenient target.

Sebastian slipped into his room, stalked up to the bed, and unceremoniously grabbed the covers and sheets, yanking both the bedclothes and Soma out and onto he floor. 

“Why you rude-!” Soma spluttered up at him, angry and indignant.

“I’m sorry, but who is rude here?” Sebastian asked lowly, dangerously. It took effort not to let his eyes flare in the darkness. “This is not your palace back in India. This is the Phantomhive Manor, in England, and I do not have to follow your orders here, you spoiled brat.”  He let Soma scramble to his feet only to advance on him, letting a horrible, cruel smirk start to cross his face. “Without Agni, you are just a powerless baby…and he just betrayed you.” 

“I—I’ve lost everyone.” Soma had the _gall_ to hang his head, gritting his teeth as his eyes burned with tears. The sight of it made Sebastian nearly throttle him.

“Lost? You haven’t lost anything. Your money, your status, your servants? Those were all given to you. Everything you ever had you pushed away because you are nothing but an ignorant child. You’ve never fought for anything or achieved anything for yourself, have you?” Sebastian enquired. “You admitted earlier tonight that you knew that Agni was sneaking out, and yet you were too much of a coward to do anything.”

“Get—get out of my way.” Soma tried to push past him, for the door, but Sebastian easily planted a hand against the mahogany, continuing to treat Soma to a cruel smile. 

“Look at you. Thinking of yourself as a hero in a tragedy. Pathetic.”

“Everyone was there for me! Everyone! I was never once not loved or cared for, and I loved and cared for them in return!” Soma yelled, hands clenching into fists.

“Dutiful service, I imagine.” Sebastian said with vicious satisfaction. “Their choices were clear- work in the palace taking care of you, or return to the slums in which they were taken from to work. Any idiot would pretend to love you rather than stay in poverty. Who would love a spoiled brat like you?” 

To Sebastian’s utter surprise, instead of breaking down or striking out against him, Soma gripped at his hair and muttered, “Lady Celine.”

“You think she cares for you?” Sebastian asked scornfully, jealousy fueling his anger. He had to fight to keep his eyes from flashing, his true form nearly clawing free in disbelief and rage.

“I—that doesn’t matter. When I first ran into her, and she rejected me…I found out more about her. As a child, she was just like me, but then she _made_ something out of herself. By the time she was of marrying age, she was considered just as formidable as her parents. Even after all of that was taken away…” Soma frowned past Sebastian, who couldn’t decide if he was more furious or surprised at the strange seriousness that had come over Soma. “I—you are right, Sebastian. I am powerless without Agni, and I am a brat. Everything has been handed to me from the moment I was born. When I heard of Lady Celine’s story, I told myself that I would learn from her, become more like her, in hopes that I could become a better person. When I found out that Agni had betrayed me, I…” Soma stared at the floor, seemed to regain his resolve. “I lost my temper. I apologize. Lady Celine is very lucky to have someone as wise as you in her employ. You’ve reminded me of what is important. Thank you.”

It wasn’t often that Sebastian was momentarily surprised into speechlessness. 

“Lady Celine even hired those men to help find out the truth. I owe her so much.” Prince Soma kept right on speaking, and his continued obliviousness helped the remaining flames of Sebastian’s anger snuff out.

“Be sure to tell her of your gratitude tomorrow.” He said finally. “It is quite late.”

“Yes, of course. Rest well, butler. Thank you for your guidance tonight.” Soma said with true gratefulness, starting to pick the bedclothes back up. With a few uncoordinated shakes, he got them spread back out onto the bed fairly well. 

Sebastian left his room and moved to Celine’s. When he detected that she was sleeping, he entered without knocking. She’d changed herself, sending a pang of melancholy through him at the missed opportunity to attempt to heal the rift between them. His dismay turned to an oddly flustered feeling when he noticed the Ciel costume, folded with surprising neatness on her bureau, ready to be packed away until she had need of them again.

An olive branch.

Celine herself was sleeping deeply, and clearly without dreams of any kind as Sebastian slowly sat at her hip. Dark shadows had smudged under her eyes, a testament to how hard she had been pushing herself. Demons didn’t feel regret, not any that they would admit to anyway, and so Sebastian satisfied himself by very gently kissing her forehead with the lightest of touches, resolving to be more patient. He couldn’t assume that Lady Celine, his Mistress, had given up on what they had started so easily. She was afraid of romantic emotions and intimacy, that was certain, but he had never known her to back down from any kind of challenge.

He would do everything he could to make her feel safer in his presence. Anything to bring back the woman he knew.

[][][][][][][][]

In the morning, Sebastian made sure his appearance was dutiful and unruffled, calm and flat, before knocking on Celine’s door. She bid him enter, and so he pushed in the tea trolley. He was surprised that she was awake at her usual time after having worked so hard and then stayed up so late. He found her sitting on the edge of her bed, rubbing at one of her knees. “Did you injure yourself, my Lady?” He asked, not in a bored manner, but not with his usual care. Testing the waters. 

“I am simply sore.” Celine treated him to the same- polite, but unfeeling. “Sebastian, I…”

“My Lady?” Sebastian handed her the usual morning cup of tea, pausing when she didn’t take it, frowning at the floor. Was she about to confess? She did seem deep in thought. Troubled, almost.

“As much as it will pain me, I will have Meyrin bathe and dress me this morning. I would like you to speak with Prince Soma this morning about making curry. I will explain to him why as you go into London this afternoon to acquire the ingredients you will need.”

“My Lady?” Sebastian asked, not following her reasoning, as she took the cup of tea delicately. 

“Last night, Jebb mentioned something about Agni being key to his business plans coming to fruition in three weeks. The only major event I can think of in three weeks that could benefit him is a curry making competition. If he is entering Agni as a competitor, you will need to beat him. If Agni loses the competition, he will lose his agreement with Jebb and will undoubtably return to Prince Soma for forgiveness.” Celine sipped the tea, giving a tired sigh of pleasure at the warmth and flavor. 

“As you wish, my Lady.” Sebastian answered finally. He didn’t want to go, but Celine had said to the affect that she didn’t want him to go either. Surely she was just putting business first, as usual? Once the current case was solved, he would get his answers, his chance to soothe her and reassure that he was not a threat to her. Until then, he would have to be even more patient.

It bothered him that he barely saw her that day. Celine was tended to by Meyrin, and ate cold, simple meals prepared by Bardroy as she enrolled Sebastian in the competition, explained to Lau and Prince Soma all that she knew regarding Agni’s apparent betrayal, and her plan moving forward to stop the attacks as well as bring Agni back to the fold. Prince Soma had gotten very teary-eyed at the promise, and had thanked her fervently for her help, especially in hiring ‘dangerous thugs’ to investigate.

That had made Celine smile for the first time that day, and it bothered Sebastian that she’d smiled for _Soma_ of all people and not him. 

When Prince Soma had finally calmed down, Lau had left, and Celine had finished tending to allocating some of her business profits to developing brands into the food market, Sebastian was almost vibrating with impatience to get a chance to speak with her. Thankfully, she had sent Meyrin back to her normal duties, so after dinner, when she declared that she was retiring to her room instead of her study, Sebastian made his move.

“You are shivering, my Lady. Let me bring you a pot of tea. Something to help you sleep.” Sebastian said in a low voice as the two of them took to the stairs. Celine hesitated, keeping her back to him, but then gave a nod of approval and continued on her way. As the tea cooled to the right temperature, Sebastian removed Celine’s corset and heavy dress, helping her into a soft, warm nightgown. She still looked tired and troubled as he began to fix her a cup of tea, but he couldn’t wait any longer, and he didn’t want to see her worried about being eaten for another moment more.

Celine took the cup Sebastian offered her, cupping it childishly with both hands, savoring the heat. The case would drag on for at least another month, most likely, and Celine was already exhausted. She admired her father’s stamina in the past, how long and hard he could work at a moment’s notice in the name of the Queen’s justice. She was started out of her memories when Sebastian said, “My Lady, the night terror you suffered earlier this week has brought to my attention that you may be uncomfortable or afraid in my presence. I wish to assure you that you never need to fear me. If you do, simply say the word and I will leave you in-,” 

Celine nearly choked on the sip of tea she’d been about to take, heart clenching so hard in her chest she nearly grabbed at it. No. _No._ He couldn’t be entertaining the idea of breaking the contract, he just couldn’t! She needed him! He was the only person she felt comfortable around at all times, the only person she could trust!

Without a second thought, Celine tossed the teacup, still full, onto the floor and threw her arms around his neck. “Don’t leave! Don’t leave, _god,_ Sebastian, never leave me. You swore on the night the contract was sealed that you would stay by my side; don’t— _don’t-!”_

“My Lady? Mistress, please-,” Sebastian sounded almost alarmed as he returned her embrace, gingerly sinking to sit on the edge of the bed. She didn’t care that he was baffled by her behavior, or that the dangerous and unflappable Countess Celine Phantomhive didn’t rely on others. After bottling up and carrying around her worst fears since the contract began, recently stoked back to the surface thanks to her dream, she simply needed a hug. She needed the reassurance of another person, specifically the one she was cautiously allowing into her heart after so much pain and sacrifice. His hand found her hair, his long fingers stroking her tresses, and Celine was able to focus on the feel of his suit against her cheek, the smell of the tea she’d discarded, the quiet _tick, tick_ of the clock on her bureau. The horrible thought of having never met Sebastian melted away, back into the part of her mind she tried her hardest to ignore. “My Lady, please tell me what is wrong.” Sebastian’s low baritone sounded worried as kept stroking.

For just a moment, when Celine had first thrown her arms around him, he’d smelled her terror, had _felt_ the contract between them weaken momentarily. He’d assumed that Celine’s nightmare and been about him consuming her soul. After all, he’d been in close proximity to her all night that night, and when he had gone to rouse her for morning tea, she’d demanded that he not touch her, had aimed a _gun_ in his face. Ever since she had lost her temper over the engagement of Edward Midford to Samantha Jameson and had shot him in the face, Celine had clearly regretted it. He could read it in her soul, see it in her hesitation to even have a gun in her hand around him. Every time she was furious with him, her gaze traveled to the spot just above his left eye that she’d shot him and her ire would disperse within seconds. 

The only thing, he’d concluded, that would frighten her enough to take up arms against him after having regretted shooting him so much, was a nightmare of him consuming her soul. Therefore, when Celine had begged him to stay and had hugged him as tight as she could probably manage, Sebastian’s mind had gone completely blank. Wasn’t she afraid of him? Terrified of her soul being pulled from her body and devoured?

“My Lady. Celine.” He hadn’t referred to her just by her name when she was conscious to hear it. This time, the informality gained her attention, and she stopped shivering against him, her fingers gripping his collar tightly.

“You…weren’t there.” Her voice was small, like a child’s. “In my dream. No one offered me a chance at revenge, at feeling _normal_ again. No one saved me. It’s pathetic— I-depending on others, I…” Celine held his collar tighter. “Your Mistress… I need you more than anyone I have ever needed in my whole life, and that frightens me. Pathetic, isn’t it?” Celine gave a sad little laugh, pressing her forehead to his chest. 

Sebastian felt several emotions pass through him as he processed her answer. Rage. Sadness. A peculiar sense of love and protectiveness.

What victim in a demon’s contract had nightmares of having never promised to lose their soul forever? The answer was his unique Mistress, Celine Rachel Phantomhive. It was _horrifying_ for her to imagine what her life would have become had Sebastian not gotten a whiff of the utter hatred that had corrupted her soul from the inside out. 

What had it cost her, to admit to her crippling fear after remembering a time when her entire life was fear and humiliation? The idea that she trusted him enough to let go of her pride and tell him made him love her all the more. Celine was an immensely secretive person when it came to her feelings. At one point, that kind of iron attitude had saved her life; her feelings had meant nothing when she was struggling to survive as a sacrifice, raped and abused. Learning to let go of that desperate act was something that had not come easy, and she still used it often to protect herself, even from him.

And now she wasn’t.

“It is not pathetic. I am yours. Every breath I take is for you. Every thought in my mind is for you. If you wished it, I would never leave your side for even a moment. You and I are one, Celine. Contract or not, I will remain with you always.” He found himself murmuring into her hair. “No one shall ever lay a hand to you again. Never again will you feel weak or helpless. I swear it.” 

“And…my revenge?” Celine asked carefully, raising her head to look up at him, pale and cautious and imploring. “I—I want that even more than…it is selfish, I know. But I cannot choose between that satisfaction and you.”

“I will not ask you to.” Sebastian managed, stroking her cheek and gently plucking off her eyepatch, tossing it aside. Celine obligingly opened her marked eye, displaying the flaring purple seal for his inspection. He gave a little laugh of his own, stroking her cheek again. “I assumed you dreamed of fulfilling your revenge, of the terror of giving yourself to me. To find it was just the opposite…” He gripped her waist a little tighter. “I appreciate your sacrifice, the risk you have worked so hard to take in not only trusting me as your servant, but as a friend. I will endeavor to fulfill all expectations.” 

“Sebastian…after my revenge is completed…” Celine bit her lip a little, staring up at him. “You said you would stay by my side forever. I—I want that as well, but it is impossible. How can you promise this when you cannot lie?”

“I…have several ideas on how that could happen. None that are worth mentioning at present. I will continue to work to find a solution. You’ll find that when a demon _wants_ something-,” he leaned down, brought his lips to her ear. “They will do _anything_ to get it.”

Celine shivered accordingly, but her arms tightened around his neck and she moved closer to him. “Thank you,” She murmured into his front, grateful and relaxing for the first time in forty-eight hours. “ _Thank you.”_

“May I pose a request?” Sebastian asked, tamping down on his urge to start kissing and nibbling at her jaw line. Celine was not ready yet. Instead, when she hummed her approval, he pulled back a bit to stroke her cheek again. “Endeavor to tell me the nature of your dreams so that I do not make foolish assumptions again.” 

Celine hesitated, as he’d expected. She’d only ever opened up to him when she was ready, and now he was asking her to initiate when all she normally wanted to do was throw up walls and retreat behind a cold, sharp attitude for her own emotional safety. He was asking her to let him in. 

“For you…I will try.” She promised softly after a moment. Celine gave a light laugh. “After all, it is nothing you haven’t seen or heard before, I am sure.” 

“That does not make your night terrors and fears any less valid, my Lady. They matter because they matter to you. I will protect you however and whenever I can.” 

Celine blinked, looking a bit surprised, before she flushed a beautiful color, off-guard, embarrassed, and pleased by his pledge. She then held his collar tight again and asked, “Will you please spend the night here again?”

“It would be my pleasure, my Lady.” he said honestly, and felt the truest smile he’d shown in years pull up his expression. Celine’s flush only darkened, an added bonus, as he pressed one last kiss to her forehead and then gathered up her fallen eyepatch.

Celine crawled into bed, and Sebastian tidied the room. He then slipped off his tailcoat, his vest, and then each shoe, skin crawling in a pleasant way as Celine watched every move he made. She was still flushing, and only her eyes peeked out from the comforter, alight with a cocktail of emotions as she watched him undress. When he blew out the candles, she snuggled further under the blanket. 

Once he’d slid in, she scooted closer. He could hear how fast her heart was beating as tentative, delicate fingers found his hand. With her head under the blanket and the darkness protecting his expression, both demon and countess could blush a bit as they laced their fingers together, enjoying the peaceful silence around them and the warmth of the other person. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so thankful and flattered every time I receive praise and comments from you all. It means so much-- you have no idea how much. Thank you.


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